


They Will Burn In Time

by TakaGang



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Uchiha Mikoto, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Multi, Ninja Politics, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Uchiha Sasuke, Recovery, Revenge, Survivor Guilt, Team Taka Deserved Better, The Uchiha Clan Deserved Better, Trauma, Uchiha Clan-centric, Uchiha Massacre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-13 15:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 59,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21496660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakaGang/pseuds/TakaGang
Summary: "Never forget, Sasuke. Just as you know your enemies' names by heart, remember the names of our clan as well. I want you to know that I will not forgive. I have no forgiveness within me. It's still up to you if you chose to follow my path."AU. Uchiha Mikoto Lives.
Relationships: Team Hebi | Team Taka & Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Fugaku & Uchiha Mikoto, Uchiha Fugaku/Uchiha Mikoto, Uchiha Mikoto & Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Mikoto/Uzumaki Kushina
Comments: 234
Kudos: 453





	1. Slaughter

**Author's Note:**

> Time for a Mikoto-centric fic!

“I see...so you’re with the other side.” 

Itachi begins, “Father, Mother…I”

Mikoto interrupts him, “I know, Itachi.”

Fugaku has one final request. 

“Itachi, promise me that you will take care of Sasuke.”

Mikoto knows without looking that Itachi’s eyes are filled with tears. She knows her eldest son’s hands shake as he holds his sword to their backs. The handle of his sword must be wet with his tears. 

“I will,”

“Do no fear.” Fugaku assures him, “this is the path you have chosen. Compared to you, our pain will be over in an instant. Even if our philosophies differ, I am proud of you_ ...You truly are a gentle child. _”

What sweet sentimental words. 

Mikoto only has the strength to work three out of her mouth, and her own son’s name tastes bitter on her tongue. If only Fugaku had the nerve to say such words to their son before he sentenced them to die. Itachi had never been spoiled or a troubling child. Mikoto knows he cries now, and yet after infancy he never seemed to cry. Fugaku’s words reach into his heart and force tears to their stoic son’s eyes. They’re such comforting words, Mikoto almost believes them. 

_ Almost. _

She lies in a puddle of her own blood. Her body in stasis, hanging on to life by threads of chakra lying underneath the corpse of her husband. Itachi’s sword came for her first, before Fugaku. Mikoto almost wants to laugh at the irony of it all. Her eldest son missed her heart by a hair with his shaking hands. She doesn’t hate him. She is angry, she can’t deny that. As much as she tried to keep her face placid, throughout the confrontation she had wanted to scream all her fury and indignation. How could he do this? She loves him still. Fugaku had loved him more, but he is her son too. 

When Itachi was born, he’d been so small. Skin so translucent one could see his veins clearly in certain lighting. He was so weak; everyone said he would die. Fugaku’s mother, the clan head, told her not to look. _ Don’t get attached. It’ll be easier that way. _ Mikoto listened, just as she had always listened to her elders. Guilt wracked her ever since, but it was Fugaku, younger than her and foolish, who held onto that baby and begged him to live. They said he wouldn’t make it through the night, and he did. They said it would only be a matter of time. He was too little, too underdeveloped. Fugaku refused to listen. He held Itachi for hours on end, poking him into crying to strengthen them, his lungs squeaking out a sound like a lamb’s cry. The baby’s tiny hands could only fit around Fugaku’s pinky. 

Fugaku would grin that dopey grin of his and press his forehead against the baby’s. He’d say, “It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. Make it through this night and every night after. You’re strong. I know you’ll be alright.” 

Mikoto’s hands shook as she touched her baby for the first time, afraid it would be the last. She didn’t want to love him. Everyone said he would die. 

She named him Itachi after Fugaku asked her to name him. Her child, sneaky and sly, managed to evade even death. How sneaky he turned out to be; if only his cunning hadn’t been turned onto them. 

She tried to do better with their second born son. Her treasure after the war, her baby, her Sasuke. She tried to give all her love and affection to him. Itachi wriggled out of her grasp as fast as he could. He didn’t seem to want a mother’s coddling. Both she and Fugaku barely knew him when they returned from the war. He crawled straight into a run and then sprinted out with a kunai in hand. He saw too much of bloodshed too young. She couldn’t keep him from it. Her eldest son rarely seemed to need her. But he did, and she couldn’t truly give him what he needed. She couldn’t kiss away what ailed him, like with Sasuke. It’s why she tried so hard to keep Sasuke in the compound for as long as she could. She wanted to protect him from the suspicious looks. He didn’t need to know what they meant, not yet, the cruelty and harshness of reality could wait. 

Now Itachi seeks to destroy them. They are the mice rising against the cat that is stepping on their tails. Their dissent cannot be permitted. Itachi must make the _ noble _ decision to carry out their extermination. The flames of rebellion must be quashed in the night, with the citizens of Konoha none the wiser, and Konoha will wash its hands clean of their blood. Her firstborn will be the only villain made tonight with his crimes laid bare for all to see. Itachi’s sword drips her own blood on top of her and his choked breathing echoes throughout the room. She can’t hate him. For all that he is, for all that he’s done, he’s still just a boy. He is her boy. 

Itachi had expected Fugaku to be his greatest adversary; foolish of him, really. Fugaku wasn’t the strongest of the prior generation of Uchiha, but he would certainly accept death before fighting his own son. Mikoto’s own hands twitched for her swords when Itachi came into the house, and if it had been anyone else she might have fought. Why? Why were they so cruel? They sent her son, their blood, to purge them all. 

Fugaku had been a good leader considering his circumstances. The second born son thrust into taking the mantle. His elder brother abdicated not long after his marriage: blowing the clan coffers to please his wife, neglecting his duties, letting his wife disregard their culture and mock their religion were all piled onto the clan’s displeasure with the eldest son, Ryuichi. Other families of the clan scrambled to offer their sons and daughters for headship. The Uchiha had always recognized conquest as a legitimate right of headship, the passing of headship through lineage had been a recent addition within their history. The Elders gave Ryuichi an ultimatum. He would quietly abdicate or his line would be cast aside for another. Thus, the headship went for his unprepared younger brother, Fugaku.

Ryuichi had been a socialite and a good politician, but things probably would’ve been worse under him. The death of their clan might’ve been faster. Who knows how it could’ve gone. Fugaku dedicated himself to the duty of headship his brother waved aside. He was resolute. He married as his mother commanded, and who he was told to marry. He quickly provided the clan an heir as requested, and even a spare. Wicked Eye Fugaku, so sincere and steady, if only he hadn’t been so trusting of Konoha. Mikoto wished he’d hated it more. He saw they were treated like scum, but did not see the rot that lay at the center of Konoha itself. 

It cost them all. 

Fugaku is dead beneath her. Her husband, the father of her children, her friend—killed by their own son.

How many of their clan lay dead outside? Mikoto knows, even she doesn’t want to. Itachi was nothing if not efficient. He butchered them all. He would’ve saved his parents for last. 

As she lies there and hears familiar little stomps of feet on the hardwood, she doesn’t think she can stay lying there as she has any longer. Why did she choose this? She can’t die. There’s someone who still needs her. Itachi said he would look after Sasuke, but in her heart Mikoto can’t believe it to be more than pacifying words. Who knows how many of their carefully laid plans will go? Who will take care of him? She doesn’t trust any of them to follow through with their words. She can’t leave her baby alone. 

Sasuke idolizes his brother, but Itachi doesn’t know him the way Mikoto does. Itachi always shooed him away when he whined. He’d never endured one of Sasuke’s worst tantrums. Would he let Sasuke sleep in his bed when he cried over them? How would be explain it all to him? Would he lie about their deaths, say it was someone else who did it, and have Sasuke grieve on the shoulder of their killer? Mikoto can’t do it. How can she leave her sweet Sasuke in the hands of Konoha. She already gave them one of her children. Itachi rose quickly through the ranks. They all said he was an impeccable shinobi. 

The Uchiha might’ve pushed him towards Konoha, to be a shinobi, to show the village their worth, but it was the village itself that took the boy and broke him. 

They made her eldest son into a clan killer. They won’t get to have Sasuke. 

She won’t let them. 

They will spare her baby, but they won’t treasure him. They want malleable blood. They want the eyes he may someday wield. Konoha wants a tool, a single Uchiha to cultivate, while the rest of them perish. 

_ Her chest burns. _

Everything aches.

Cauterizing wounds with fire is one of the first lessons Uchiha shinobi learn, and Mikoto clenches her teeth through the pain. The blood soaking the tatami is sticky against her feet as she rises. Fugaku slips to the floor off of her. Mikoto forces any thoughts of him from her mind. It hurts too much to consider his corpse now. Perhaps his old genin teammate will see he gets a proper funeral. 

She knows Itachi shivers behind her. She can’t pay him any mind either. When he takes a step towards her, a chakra enforced shove sends him ripping through the paper screens. Just as Sasuke slides open the doors, Mikoto scoops him up into her arms. She runs. 

Sasuke doesn’t realize it’s his mother who has him at first. He struggles and shrieks as blood from her starts to cover his own clothes. When he glances up and sees familiar eyes, now with an unfamiliar hardness, he settles. Mikoto runs. She ignores the sharp pains shooting all throughout her body. The worst is at her chest. Sasuke irritates the wound with his weight, but she ignores it. She can’t think of it now. She can’t bother with it. She needs to run. 

She can’t think of Itachi. As much as she despairs for her eldest child, he is lost to her. 

As she runs through the compound and into the forest, the scenes of carnage etch themselves into her brain. She’ll never forget them. It fans the flames of hatred in her heart. Shimura Danzo and his ROOT, Sarutobi Hiruzen: they brought this upon her clan. She wants them dead. Members of the Uchiha clan lay scattered across the ground; their home now a battlefield. Their bellies are split open with their bowels filling the air with a wretched stench. Slit throats have rivers of blood streaming down the streets. Too many are unidentifiable without their heads. Only the Uchiwa symbol on their backs marks them as clan. 

Mikoto knows her father must be dead. Her siblings must be dead. Everyone is dead. Masato would’ve tried to fight. He was always so brave. Akimomo and her husband Kenta couldn’t fight. Kenta was a civilian, the worst weapon he wielded was a wood carving knife, and Momo had been pregnant. They had five other children: Harin, Sachiro, Mimi, Otomi, Kotosuke. The oldest had only been a year younger than Itachi. 

She runs to the hospital, knowing she should try and flee the village. Naozumi had been in the hospital with his illness. He hadn’t been doing well after Shisui’s death, his grief over his son wreaking havoc on his ill body. Just one sibling; she wants at least one sibling to survive with her. She doesn’t want to bear the burden alone. 

Ducking into an alleyway, she finds Uchiha Eiji. Old and drunk, he spent his time at bars more than he did their own compound. Sasuke tries to turn to see when she stops, but she holds his head down against her shoulder. Eiji was run through with a blade. His puddle of vomit nearby still reeks of sake as the blood from his wound heads towards it to blend into a macabre mixture. Itachi had been taking out those in the compound, but there had to be stragglers. Danzo must’ve sent out his ROOT. 

She can’t go to the hospital. Naozumi, her sweet eldest brother, would only be a burden without his legs. He cannot run, and she cannot carry him. He is probably already dead anyway. 

She needs to think of Sasuke. 

Run. 

Run fast. 

Don’t look back. 

Mikoto knows she is one of the fastest Uchiha. Her strength before setting it all aside for her children had been one of her points of pride. She still tried to keep her body in shape, ready and trained. She reveled in being the former clan head’s pride and glory, even over the woman’s own sons. Shisui was fast, but getting caught by Danzo damned him. He was caught because he looked back. Mikoto won’t make that mistake. She runs. No one will catch her. 

Sasuke is silent as she dashes through the trees with only the bright moon to light their way. She disregards any thoughts of regret as the towering red gates of Konoha grow smaller behind them. Their home is gone. Fugaku is dead. Their family is dead. Their people are dead. Konoha swung the decisive sword for their execution, and so readily they bared their necks to it. Mikoto isn’t quite sure who to hate. Anger crawls through her muscles, aching and sore, and dips it’s sourness into her blood bringing it to a boil. Only the softness of Sasuke’s hair against her chin keeps her from screaming. 

Her sweet boy. He will live. She’ll make sure of it. 

They run into the night leaving Konoha behind them. No one follows. Mikoto wonders if Itachi let her go, or if he had other obligations more important than his _ simple _mother. 

Mikoto runs. 

She runs until her legs collapse beneath her when they make it to a river. Sasuke’s first real noise is a startled squeak. Mikoto frantically scoops water into her mouth with her hands. It’s so cold, and fresh. She wants to drink until her belly aches from fullness, but knows that’s just the exhaustion talking. She scoops up some for Sasuke, but he refuses to drink. His eyes are glazed with unshed tears as he rapidly shakes his head over and over. 

“Sasuke, drink. We need to keep going, but first you must drink.”

The unshed tears spill over his cheeks. He continues to shake his head, but a broken keening escapes from his throat. Mikoto had seen him cry and whine many times, but not like this. Never like this. He drags his hands through his hair, fingers scrunched like little talons, and pulls. He keeps tugging at his hair until Mikoto sees strands ripping from his scalp. Pushing her hands into his, she takes them away from his hair. He tries to wrestle out of her grip, but even wounded and tired she is stronger. 

“Mama’s here. It’s going to be alright. I have you. I’ll keep you safe.”

Sasuke keeps trying to wretch his hands away from her as he starts to sob.

“What—what’s going on? All the weapons and the blood everywhere. Everyones dead…”

“I know, I know.”

Sasuke wraps his arms around himself as his erratic sobbing wracks his body. 

“Mama, why? _ Why _?”

Mikoto pulls him into her arms. He still struggles for a moment, his breath hitching, before he stops. He will not calm. Tears and snot trickle down his face in a steady rain. Mikoto worries he’ll pass out from lack of oxygen in his hysterics, but she still lets him get out all the tears he needs to cry. She rubs his back and explains to him what she can for now. He’ll want to know more later, about how their clan came to this, but talk must wait. 

“They took your brother from us. _ They _ did this to us. Your father, grandfather, aunt, uncles—everyone is dead because of _ them _. They slaughtered our clan. The village will hurt us if we stay. We have to go. We must run. I will protect you. I promise. Mama is here. I’ve got you.”

Mikoto gets him to drink. His stomach grumbles, but he doesn’t make any noise about it. Mikoto doesn’t have anything to feed him anyhow. She has nothing but her tattered clothes. Her duel swords are in a seal of Kushina’s design tattooed on her back. They need a place to recover and plan. Any other thoughts can wait till then. 

“They must break my back if they wish for me to bow to them now. I will never forget what they have done. But I will take care of you. I will keep you safe.” She rests her head against her son’s sharingan blazing bright, “know this, Sasuke. We run now—but it will not always be this way.”

Mikoto hoists Sasuke onto her back. He grumbles, but she ignores it. Her legs are longer. They can’t afford to be slowed down at all. Rocks and the bark of trees barely register as pain against her bare feet. Her chest has gone numb, but Mikoto still feels the heat pulsating from the wound. They need somewhere to hide. 

The Uchiha had few allies. The Uchiha had fallen on hard times when their battles with the Senju raged, and the creation of the villages, restrictive as they were, did help them grow. Mikoto remembers her grandfather telling stories, his toothless grin, as he told her many fights between the two clans had been over theft. The Senju were a very wealthy clan, the Uchiha had prestige through name and battle, but their wealth and status had fallen. People needed to eat, and sometimes stealing was easier. 

That didn’t mean the Uchiha hadn’t had allies and vassals to their name. They had a long history, a lineage stretching back centuries. Mikoto’s mother, court-loving and chatty, always claimed the Uchiha had a few lines that came from kings. Mikoto would roll her eyes, but she knew Fugaku had soaked up all the many different stories with wide eyes. The allies and vassals that remained with the Uchiha, even when they fell into destitution were exiled by order of the village. The Uchiha were meant to be a neutral party as acting police force, they said. A clan couldn’t have so much power to be neutral. Almost all vassals under their care were non-combatants. They all still had to go. Every carpenter, baker, smith that had followed them across encampments. Everyone that was not blood Uchiha or wed into the clan had to go. 

It’s a starting place. They can find old loyalties, and see if they’ll offer any assistance. Memories always run deep, and those loyalties hadn’t been built on nothing. They had not been shallow words and allegiances, but bonds forged in blood and oath. Mikoto remembers standing, back straight, as she watched friends she’d grown up with leave the village. Standing beside the clan head, she could not let any tears fall, but she saw their weeping all too clearly engraved in her mind. 

The Uzumaki safe houses. They could stay there. No one would look there. Only the Uchiha had known about them, and Itachi had known so little about being Uchiha. Mikoto knew her father went behind her back on occasion and took Sasuke to etiquette and history lessons. She had wanted Itachi’s role as heir acknowledged, she didn’t want Sasuke to need to step up for his brother; not like Fugaku had. Sasuke didn’t need the weight of their clan bending his back. The memory of the body filled streets reminds her that’s no longer an issue. 

Konoha will pay for what they’ve done to the Uchiha clan. Mikoto grips Sasuke in her arms and swears it. Vengeance will come in time. It is a dish best served cold. She just needs to regroup and build up strength. They’ll pay, but Mikoto wonders what she’ll do with her wayward son. Itachi, her little kin killer. 

She remembers Uchiha Chimon lying not far from the village gates. He must’ve tried to run. His little boy, Enmei hadn’t been far. Chimon had been slit straight down the middle, like someone grabbed his foot as he tried to escape and cut him groin to chin. All his innards spilled out for the crows to feast on. Enmei had been three years old. His decapitated head had rolled into the brush, but Mikoto recognized him by the cleft lip. 

Fugaku said they had a gentle child. Gentle? Had it been another, one of ROOT operatives perhaps, that cut Chimon and Enmei down? Did they fight? Mikoto couldn’t remember if Chimon had been a shinobi or not. Maybe even if Chimon hadn’t been, he might have still tried—for his son. How many had tried to flee with their children in their arms? How many clasped hands over their children's mouths, placing them in genjutsu so the babies didn’t cry. 

What might Itachi have done to Sasuke? Mikoto can hope nothing. She can hope Itachi would’ve kept his word to protect his brother, but she thinks he’d interpret _ take care of _differently than she would. What might Konoha have done to her baby? 

They can’t have him. 

Mikoto whispers sweet musings into Sasuke’s hair as she runs. Her legs tremble and every step hurts more than the last, but she can’t stop. She can’t stop until she knows she’s run far enough. Konoha has some of the best trackers, and she doesn’t think the Hatake boy, so loyal, would see reason even if it was with her. 

Konoha will wait and fear. She’ll make sure of it. She will return one day. This night is showered in blood, and her clan’s cacophony of screams ride on the winds. She will not forget it. One day, Konoha will know the same pain. Sarutobi Hiruzen will fear every shadow thinking one just might be her. She will return when she is strong, when Sasuke is strong. 

They will have their revenge. 


	2. Safehouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Safety and security must come before anything else.

After Uzushiogakure fell, the people that survived were scattered. The Uchiha did not forget oaths they swore. Even if the Konoha wanted to forget the sister village they couldn’t save, The Uchiha would not. The Uzumaki safehouses were set up by the Uchiha clan to help funnel wayward Uzu citizens to safety. They had to protect what was left of Uzu. Although they were called The Uzumaki Safehouses, many different people of clans or otherwise of the Uzu diaspora, found themselves passing through. Their island was lost to them. They could not return to the sea, and both Kiri and Iwa patrolled the coasts watching for any who dared to bare the symbol of Uzushio. Red hair had to be dyed or shaved. No seals. Treasures must be hidden. No symbols of any recognizable clan. If bloodline traits could be covered, cover them, if not then travel at night. Konoha did not help in time, and a bitterness festered. Few Uzu wanted to risk the voyage to Konoha. They didn’t want to offer their blood in exchange for safety. The Uchiha massacre would only solidify their choice.

Mikoto whispered about the houses and routes to Kushina. Kushina had been rushed off to Konoha to take on the Kyuubi shortly before the fall. She’d been young, but always seemed feel guilty. She thought she should have stayed. What could one little girl, with no jinchuuriki chakra then, have done? Mikoto tried telling her that, but Kushina never listened. Kushina told her over and over as they pressed their sleeping bags close together about Uzushiogakure. As they grew older, Kushina always feared she’d forget it. She wished she had another Uzu citizen, another Uzumaki at her side, to help her remember the city of ocean stone. She wondered if she could even remember every story to tell her children one day.

Mikoto wonders if that will happen to the Uchiha. Sasuke knows some stories, but not all. It’ll be up to her to remind him, to tell him of the fire festival, to teach him recipes, and prayers. What if she forgets? Who will remind her? The Uzumaki fell, and now so did the Uchiha. Who will remember their tales? Mikoto knows Konoha will spin a sad sordid tale with her son as the villain. They will change the Uchiha’s story to fit their needs. It’s up her and Sasuke to know the truth. Mikoto wishes she could tell everyone to scream it from the rooftops, but that would only draw attention they don’t need.

The Uzumaki safehouses are meant to be secret. No one says who comes through them. They loyalties of those who stand sentinel over the Uzumaki safehouses is one that runs deep. Spies of coin are swayed too easily by heavy pockets. It’s why Konoha values loyalty and teamwork so much. To be willing to die for someone else is something that cannot be bought.

The closest safehouse Mikoto knows about is near the Fire Temple. Mikoto tries to visualize the map Fugaku showed her: every house, old hidden base, and contact. He told her to memorize it before he burned it. They couldn’t put their allies at risk if the Uchiha themselves came under fire. Paranoia had been one of the values Fugaku’s mother always preached. Mikoto always thought it ridiculous, but now she thanks Uchiha Torabana for all her distrustful plans. It could’ve been worse. More lives could have been lost.

Mikoto holds Sasuke closer to her and tries to keep that in mind as the pain continues it’s agonizing crawl across her body. Even after hours of travel, Sasuke hadn’t asked where they were going. He hadn’t said a thing and it worries her, but he’s alive at least.

It always could’ve been worse

The traditional house with a dragon and phoenix engraving above the doorway nearly takes her feet out from under her. She wants to lay down. It doesn’t matter if its in the dirt. She staggers with every step, but even as her toes drag, she keeps walking. When she knocks on the door, an old woman with her hair in a tight bun answers the door. The old woman takes one look at Mikoto and frowns. Her frown is too accepting; too ready to see a woman covered in blood with a child in her arms, but she’s probably seen enough in her long life.

“Get inside. We need to get you clean before infection sets in.”

The woman leads them into the house. Sasuke only stirs slightly when the woman talks, but otherwise doesn’t lift his head off Mikoto’s shoulder.

“I’m Tala. You don’t need to tell me your names, but you can if you want to. Is the boy injured or is it just you?”

“Just me.”

Collapsing into the chair Tala pulled out for her, Mikoto lets herself breathe. Too deep of breathes tug on her ribs, but everything aches anyway. She tries to coax Sasuke into the other chair, but he only clings tighter. His fingers dig into the back of her dress and every time she tries to pull him off, he whines.

Tala sets up a medical kit and wets a cloth with alcohol. She sets it aside to tap the back of Sasuke’s head with a pair of tweezers, “Boy, let go of your mother. She’s not going anywhere. You need to get off her, so I can help her. Right now, you’re doing her more harm than good.”

Mikoto doesn’t think she needed to be so harsh, but it works. Sasuke wiggles off her lap and reluctantly climbs into the chair next to her. She offers him her hand to hold, and he grasps it tightly.

Tala presses pills into Mikoto’s hand and sets a glass of water on the table. Mikoto sniffs the pills, but Tala encourages her to drink, “The blood’s dried your dress to you. I’m gonna need to cut it off and by the looks of it’ll sting something awful. I’ll have to peel it off in strips. After that I can put a cream on it and wrap it. How far did you run with that wound? You’re far too pale for comfort. It’s a miracle your moving at all.”

“Too far. Everything hurts.”

Tala huffs, “I’d be surprised if it didn’t. You’re going to be sore from your toes upward for a few days.”

The first tug of Mikoto’s dress is the worst. It brings skin with it as it pulls at the thin hairs on her body. Tala tries to cut away the fabric as gently as she can, and Mikoto clenches her teeth to muffle any whimpers or cries. She’s had worse. She broke her back during the war. Her brothers teased her about the brace but held her head when tears of pain slipped from her eyes. Like a band aid, she tells herself. But if Tala takes it all off in one go, Mikoto knows she’ll scream and that’ll only scare Sasuke.

Tala hisses when she cleans away enough to start cleaning the wound. The burnt hole is puckered and blackened with ash. Clotted blood sticks to the skin and Tala begins the arduous tasks of cleaning it away. She wrings out the blood from her cloth into a bowl before soaking it again. Sasuke clenches Mikoto’s hand tighter, but Mikoto hushes him soothingly. The alcohol burns and Mikoto wrinkles her nose at the smell. Every little dab stings, but Mikoto only thinks of Sasuke.

Sasuke is quiet—too quiet. No matter what Mikoto says to him he never responds. Not after his hysterical outburst at the river. He only stares at Mikoto’s chest. She knows his eyes are fixated on the wound, so close to her heart, she should’ve been dead in minutes. He doesn’t even fight Tala when she yanks his dirty clothes off him. The blood shows so brightly on his white shorts. Mikoto bits her lip as she watches Tala take away his shirt. The Uchiwa symbol sewed on the back is something she won’t see for a long time. It’s too dangerous. Wearing their symbol would be foolish, a target, but Mikoto closes her eyes and sees a sea of red and white fans: all gone now.

“Mama’s alright, Sasuke. It’s just a little scratch. I’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

Tala tightens the bandages. She wraps them under Mikoto’s arms and across her shoulders, “Quite the scratch if you ask me? Was it a tanto or katana that scratched ya?”

Mikoto shoots her a look when Sasuke’s breathe hitches. 

“It’s of no concern. It’s done with, and I’ll recover.”

“Only proper rest and good meals will bring some color to your cheeks. I can see it in your eyes. You want to get back on the road, but you’re in no shape to travel. You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you need. I don’t mind.” Tala says, “How does okayu sound? I have some udon I could heat up if that sounds better?”

Mikoto’s mouth sours at the thought of food, but she remembers Sasuke’s grumbling stomach. She needs to set an example for him.

“I don’t want to trouble you. Noodles would be lovely.”

“Something to wear won’t go amiss either. I might have an old dress that will fit you, but it might be a bit loose. I’ve kept some children’s clothes just in case any come through. I’m sure I can find something for your boy.”

Mikoto pulls Sasuke into her lap and kisses his hair. He gently rests his head against her. He must be as exhausted as she is. Mikoto tries to get Sasuke to move to his own chair when Tala sets two steaming bowels of noodles down on the table, but he shakes his head. She holds his chopsticks for him and holds the food out to him, “I know you’re tired, but you need to eat. I know you’re hungry, Sweetie. Can you eat just a little bit for me?”

Sasuke says nothing. Mikoto tries wiggling the noodles in front of his face, but he just stares at it. She feels darkly nostalgic working it into his mouth, like he’s a baby again smacking his gums on mashed yams. He at least chews once the food in his mouth, slow bites like every movement of his jaw is burdensome, but it’s something. Mikoto doesn’t realize how hungry she is until she has a taste. She slurps down the bowl with an enthusiasm that would’ve made Kushina proud. Kushina had always teased her for being too prim and proper, while Kushina inhaled her ramen.

Tala asks if she’d like another bowl, but Mikoto politely declines. Eating too much would only make her sick. She’s run too much, and she’ll probably end up sick anyway. Her stomach is already uneasy from stress.

Tala says, “You can put the boy to bed upstairs. I have a couple rooms. They’re all open so take your pick. Mine’s at the very end of the hall.”

“Thank you. You’ve been very kind. My son’s name is Sasuke, and I’m Uchiha Mikoto.”

Mikoto can’t bring herself to look at Tala’s sad eyes, “I knew you were an Uchiha the moment I saw you but it’s of no trouble, Lady Uchiha.”

Stumbling when she gets to her feet, Mikoto still lifts Sasuke and takes him down the hall. She considers all that she isn’t doing that is part of his usual routine. No bath. He’d probably fall asleep in the water. That can wait till morning. No brushing his teeth, she doesn’t have his toothbrush, and no pajamas. Mikoto thinks of the little plush dinosaur Sasuke used to carry around. He still slept with it, and now he can’t. It was back in the village along with the corpses of their clan. She won’t ever get to try to coax Fugaku, still rubbing his neck from long hours at the police station, to just poke his head into Sasuke’s room and tell him goodnight ever again.

Mikoto tucks Sasuke in. She sits on the edge of the futon and brushes back his hair. “How about I tell you a story? Would you like that, Sweetie?”

Sasuke nods. He looks so small with the quilt pulled close to his chin.

The thought of telling the story of Madara is a strong one. Sasuke heard the story before, but often with a pro-Konoha tint. Konoha knew the Uchiha gave Madara the clan head name The Betrayer, but what they didn't know was in whispers they called him another name. Madara The Betrayed. Uchiha Madara had only wanted to protect his clan. He warned them of Konoha’s darkness, and yet the clan refused to face his distrust. They were awed by the prospect of peace not seeing the truth that lay beneath the veneer.

The village was built by both Hashirama and Madara, but Hashirama did nothing to bring the Uchiha into the light. The Uchiha thought the village would be their salvation, instead they were sequestered off into the shadows. Fugaku had always gotten teary eyed when someone told the story and said part of Madara’s so called madness had been a broken heart. Madara’s only true madness had been thinking peace could be achieved through offering everything they had to Konoha. It was sticking a hand in the lion’s mouth and expecting it not to bite.

“There’s the story about the dragon and the Uchiha who loved her. I could tell you the one about the giant wolves in the mountains. Or how about one with the archer who sang for the stars?”

Sasuke opens his mouth, but no words come out. Mikoto sees the questioning look in Sasuke’s eyes. She smiles, “Oh, I haven’t told you the one about the archer before? Would you like to hear it?”

Sasuke wiggles closer to her and nods.

“Alright, sweetie. Just try to go sleep for me, and I’ll tell you a story.” Mikoto rubs at her aching chest, takes a breath before she begins, “Once upon a time there was an archer. He had eyes like a hawk. His arrows never missed their mark. He was also a tender man. So soft and kind, he had even loved a shadow once. He sang so sweetly the flowers and trees would stop to listen. The archer hunted game for his family. That was the archer’s main reason for taking up the bow, but it was also for protection. The archer lived in a dangerous place. Bandits, slavers, murderers—the most horrible of folk roamed the land. The archer was able to strike down such men with a single arrow.

One day, the archer came back from hunting to find his home had been ransacked. His wife and young son had been taken from him. The archer tracked the perpetrators for many days and many nights, but when he found them there were too many to take on alone. Thus, the archer sang. At night, with only the stars to witness, he sang to the heavens in his grief and indecision. Should he attack the men who took his family even if it meant his death? The stars gave their answer. They were so moved by his song they decided to assist him. The night sky lit up green that night as great arrows of lightning rained down upon the men who took the archer’s wife and child. The archer’s own arrows crackled with lightning. His wife and child were both safe from any harm. They embraced the archer and returned home. The archer became old and the young son became a man who became an archer after his father. They lived a peaceful and prosperous life.”

Sasuke’s exhaustion, Mikoto’s soothing voice, and her comforting hand carry him off to sleep. He’ll probably wake up soon enough with nightmares. He should rest while he’s able. Mikoto kisses his hair and wishes she could lay down next to him and let her eyes finally close, but she can’t. Mikoto slowly walks down the hallway and tries to breathe through unbidden memories.

When the boys were very small, Fugaku sang them lullabies.

Tala is still cleaning up her supplies and kitchen. Mikoto gathers dishes for the sink, but when she starts to wash them Tala tells her to leave them be. She doesn’t want to burden the woman. She asks if there’s anything she can do to help.

Tala says “You can help yourself by getting to sleep. Work can wait till the morning. Just Rest.”

Mikoto’s eyes whirl bright with the sharingan, “I can never rest until Konohagakure burns.”

Tala wipes her hands on her apron. The news might not have broke about the Uchiha massacre, but an Uchiha having a vendetta against Konoha isn’t hard to understand.

“That may be so, but it still stands for tonight.”

Mikoto wraps her arms around herself, “Sasuke’s father, my husband, is dead. My eldest son is as good as. We had to run because everyone is dead.” Mikoto sinks into the kitchen chair and holds her head into her hands. She feels like she could cry. Her throat is tight and her chest burns, but no tears come, “They’re all dead. Everyone is gone.”

Tala puts a hand on her shoulder. Mikoto considers swiping it away but doesn’t. She lets Tala convey all her apologies for something she cannot change in a simple touch. Tala doesn’t’ lead her to another room. She simply sets up another futon next to Sasuke’s and Mikoto is glad sorry doesn’t once pass her lips.

Any words of condolence wouldn’t feel real yet. It still doesn’t feel real. None of it. It feels as if she’ll wake up tomorrow and her younger brother will be yelling at her from across the compound. It feels like she’ll wake up to Fugaku collapsed on his futon, not even bothering to climb under the covers. He always stayed at the station long after he sent everyone else home, and if it wasn’t the police, he was in his office with clan duties till Mikoto asked him to come to bed. If she closes her eyes, she can see a morning with Fugaku drearily shuffling to the coffee pot and her eldest son putting natto beans into his rice as Sasuke makes a face. Fugaku was always less guarded in the morning and would snort into his coffee over Sasuke’s silliness.

That won’t happen again.

Not ever.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am on a roll with writing the outline for this and unlike with Our Chains I do have a vison for the direction of this work!


	3. What Happened?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even now, Mikoto doesn’t regret thoughts of revolution. They’d been so scared. They‘d needed something to believe in.

“Word’s going around that Uchiha Itachi murdered his entire clan last night. Konoha hasn’t given the official reasoning of why he did it, but people are saying he just went over the edge. Many shinobi lose it. They’re saying he’s just another genius who couldn’t take the pressure. That’s really all I know. Lady Uchiha—I am truly sorry.”

Tala wakes Mikoto in the afternoon with news she’d sent a message out for a discrete healer. Mikoto doesn’t ask the young man’s name, and he doesn’t offer it. The man’s hair looks dyed, but Mikoto can’t figure out the color underneath. She doesn’t see any red, but maybe he’s just on a wanted list. Mikoto inquires to what he’s heard from Konoha, even though she is reluctant to hear the lies the village will tell.

The news the young man brings isn’t so surprising, but that doesn’t make it pleasant. The young man’s soothing green chakra is much more welcome, and Mikoto accepts it gratefully. It helps ease some of the sharp throbbing that terrorizes her muscles. Tala hadn’t been joking when she said Mikoto would be sore from her toes upward. Her morning attempt to go to the bathroom had ended up in an impromptu trip to the floor.

The young man sees himself out after Mikoto’s checkup is finished. He says he has other house calls to make. Tala tries to get him to at least stay for a late breakfast, but he declines. She manages to get an orange and loaf of bread into his hands before he shuffles out the door. Mikoto isn’t sad to see the man go. She hates the news he brought, and she wishes Sasuke hadn’t heard it. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell him the entire truth of how they came to this. Sasuke woke up with the same mile long stare, but he at least manages to eat on his own. Mikoto figures he’ll speak when he’s ready, so she doesn’t press him.

Tala asks the pivotal question before Mikoto can work out how she can even begin to explain everything.

“What happened? The truth of it I mean, not what Konoha wants people to know?”

Sasuke stirs his rice and egg; he’s only eaten a little. His eyes flicker to her when Tala speaks. Mikoto sets aside her own food before she speaks.

“To understand that I suppose you must understand that Itachi, my eldest son, did slaughter our clan. That is true. He turned his back on his own for Konohagakure. Maybe he thought our plans would lead to war, but he took up the sword against us because he was ordered to. We were living with a spy in our own home, our own son. Itachi probably reported every time Fugaku sneezed to the Hokage. My eldest hated us, not me particularly, but the Uchiha clan itself. I saw it. He saw the Uchiha the way Konoha wanted him to but didn’t look in the mirror to see the Uchiha staring back. They say he acted alone and without cause, but that isn’t true. There is much more to it than that—so much more.”

Mikoto pulls Sasuke into her lap. He shakes his head at her words, and Mikoto sees the early stages of a fit. Sasuke can’t fit the images of a murderer and his brother together. His mouth trembles, but Mikoto holds him against her before he can cry. He needs to know, even if the truth hurts.

“Many of our clan voiced concerns to my husband about our separation in the village. No matter what we did it never seemed to be enough—we were never equal. Fugaku didn’t know what to do, and neither did I. What could we do? Should we have averted our eyes from the mistreatment and pretend it wasn’t there? We were all citizens and shinobi of Konoha, and yet they looked at us as if we were Iwa or Kiri nin! They thought we had caused the Nine Tailed Fox’s attack on the village! My brother’s wife had been among the dead, and so many others of our clan. How were we supposed to take that?”

Tala nods, “What can anyone do in that situation? Everyone will say they would’ve done this or that, but truthfully when it comes down to it, we think of how we can protect ourselves. They’ll note your pride most of all, but perhaps history will remember behind all pride there is still fear.”

“Fear? Oh, of course there was plenty of that,” Mikoto says. “You know, Fugaku always worried if I went outside the compound alone. He always worried about Sasuke. There was a curfew and Fugaku tried to encourage a buddy system of sorts, but most people stayed close to the compound when things seemed to only get worse. He’d always say what if something happened. Someone who had enough of those Uchiha with their terrible eyes. How would it look if a member of the head family hurt another citizen of Konoha even in self-defense? We had enough issues with the ANBU undermining the police. If anything happened, and we fought back, we’d be in the wrong. They were always ready to paint us with a villainous brush.”

“Your husband sounds like he was a smart man.”

“He was very book smart, and he had good ideas on occasion. He wasn’t a bad man, not at all. Far from violent at heart, he was a bit of wuss if you ask me. Perhaps a bit too serious, but he was a good man. He realized the peace Konoha proclaimed was not for us. The idea of a rebellion started as a whisper, but then it became a hope: to be seen, heard, and an end to our pain. The elders of our clan wanted to see an end to the injustice and rebellion looked like the only option. Our clan members were grieving, angry, and scared. _ We were all so scared. _ Fugaku wasn’t some power-hungry madman, although I wonder if my eldest thought he was. He just wanted us to be safe, for our family. Fugaku was a fool who loved Konohagakure. Don’t you think it broke his heart when he realized it didn’t love him back? This village was never meant for the Uchiha. Fugaku listened to his people, and their call was for change.”

Tala sets her hand on Mikoto’s. Mikoto wishes she could tell Tala she had doubts, but at the time she hadn’t any. She still doesn’t even now. She’d believed fully in their plan and prayed they would prevail. The thought that they might fail had been considered, but she figured it would only cost the leaders of the rebellion. Wouldn’t they spare the children? Mikoto can’t believe she was ever so naïve.

“Konoha will bastardize our tale and make us into monsters if the truth ever comes out. Those bloodthirsty Uchiha with madness in their veins. They’ll say we wanted their children’s heads on pikes, while our own babies rot. One day maybe they will say we never wanted a revolt, to preserve our honor, as is there’s any honor in lying down to die like dogs. Isn’t fighting for freedom more noble?”

Sasuke struggles out of Mikoto’s gasp and rushes down the hall. Every one of his cries is a jolt to Mikoto’s heart. She stands to go after him, but Tala stops her.

“The boy has had a lot of change, many horrible revelations, in such a short amount of time. Just let him process it on his own for a bit.”

Mikoto sighed, “I know that, but I don’t think I should just leave him alone. Uchiha aren’t meant to be alone and I’m all he has. We need to figure out what comes next now that it's just the two of us.”

“Then, what comes next, Mikoto? Do you intend to find mercenary work with that boy on your hip? He’s not going to leave you alone while you go off on assassinations, and many other missing-nin won’t take you seriously because of him. You can stay here for as long as you need too. Konoha, if they’re looking for you, will look towards the major villages like Suna before here. I can feel your rage. You said you wanted Konoha to burn. Are you content to wait while that little boy cries himself to sleep and clings to your apron strings?”

Mikoto slams her hand on the table. She’s been hovering for some time between grieving sorrow and overwhelming rage. Anger is easier. It’s much more useful than lying in bed and letting herself cry. Crying won’t help Sasuke. Crying won’t bring her family back. Mikoto can hope old friends and comrades gave her clan members proper funeral pyres, but every time she closes her eyes, she sees Danzo with Fugaku’s sharingan eyes grasped in his greedy hands.

Her voice shakes as she speaks. “Of course, I’m angry!_ Everyone is dead! _ What do you expect me to do? Lay down and die! Should I spread my legs to make my way? I need to take care of my son, but I also need justice. _ My clan deserves justice! _ I can’t just wait around like a sitting duck for Konoha to take my head!”

Tala isn’t unnerved at Mikoto’s raised voice. Instead, Tala calmly unwraps the scarf from around her throat. Mikoto hadn’t thought much of it, but now with the scarf gone Mikoto sees a long scar stretching around her neck.

“Vengeance doesn’t put food on the table, and right now that boy needs you more than the dead do. I got this scar people were asking around where folks from certain kekkei genkai clans might be. I was sure they had to be bounty hunters of sorts or thieves. I was a young woman then, but I couldn’t say. I had no information to give them. I remember clearly the man who held a knife to my throat was blond and he was a scrawny little thing too. He held me by my hair, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I didn’t know anything. He didn’t care. Before the man and his group left, he slashed me because I wouldn’t talk. Luckily, a woman from the Rinha clan was hiding among the group. She healed my throat before I could keel over.”

“You must’ve hated them.”

“Of course, I did, but I couldn’t do anything. I know you can in time, but instead of not being trained in any sort of combat like me you’ve got a child. The Five Kage did terrible things to the Rinha clan after the war, and perhaps one day they will take revenge same as you. Your child will be older one day, and maybe your goals will coincide, but you must focus on the now.”

Clenching her fists, Mikoto says nothing as she turns and marches down the hall. She finds Sasuke curled up underneath the covers of his futon. She feels some of her anger slip away seeing the little lump. She sits down next to him and puts a hand on his back.

“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. I know this is all a lot to take in, but I promise you one day it will be better. It will hurt, and maybe it always will, but one day things will be better.”

Sasuke throws off the covers and swats his mother’s hand away. Mikoto reaches out to touch the red rims around his eyes and tangles in his hair, but Sasuke shoves her with all the might his skinny arms can muster.

“_ You’re lying _ !” He yells, “I wanna go home! _ I want Itachi _! Itachi wouldn’t hurt anyone! You’re a liar!”

His voice is rough from disuse but the desperation in his words still hurt more than any sword. Sasuke had seen his clan members bodies’ lying in the streets. He had to have seen his brother standing over his parents with a bloody sword. Mikoto wishes what he says were true. She wishes Itachi was the type of boy to never hurt anyone, but he’d been raised to be a spectacular shinobi. They can’t go home. Their home is gone.

Mikoto doesn’t mean to yell, but her earlier anger and frustration with Tala resurfaces.

“_ You’re not getting him! _ Your brother murdered your father in cold blood. It’s because of him and that damned village we can’t go home! Can’t you understand they betrayed us, Sasuke?”

Being yelled at isn’t something Sasuke is used to. His mother had always been very lenient with him only reprimanding him when he truly misbehaved: shutting him down with a hard look was usually good enough. His brother rolled his eyes or sighed when he misbehaved. His father raised his voice on occasion, but still hadn’t been much of a yeller. He was the type of man who stated things calmly, but surely. Sasuke could always read the hard tone of chastisement. He never needed to shout.

Sasuke freezes for a moment, before he starts to weep. The boiling rage drains from Mikoto’s body as she watches her child’s face crumple and tears stream down his cheeks.

She gingerly pulls him into her lap. He wheezes and coughs from the strain of his cries as he still tries to shove her. Mikoto holds him. She rocks him back and forth and whispers against his hair. “Forgive me, Sasuke. I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to yell. Don’t cry. It’s alright.

Sasuke sniffles harshly. Mikoto tries not to cringe at the snotty sound; much of it’s probably getting smeared into the shoulder of her dress and probably even her hair.

“You-you-don’t even call ‘Tachi his name…”

“There’s a reason for that, Baby. Names are very important, you see. Your father already knew what he wanted to name you when you were born, but we still had a proper naming ceremony. Betraying one’s own is seen as a horrible thing for us. In some instances, one loses the right to the Uchiha name. In the most extreme cases, where one spills the blood of their own, they lose all right to name. A name is a gift. Itachi, my eldest son, gave it back when he killed the father who gave him his name. You don’t need to do that just because I do. It’s something my own mother had taught me, but I will not force you.”

Sasuke rests his head against her shoulder. She worries he’s going to go quiet again, but he wipes his nose on the back of his hand and asks quietly, “Mama, can you tell me about, Father?”

“Your father, hm? Do you remember when I told you he always has that grumpy look on his face cause he’s awkward? That’s true and it’s always been like that—well maybe not the grumpy part. I thought he was a real loser when we were kids. He was a crybaby! When you were born, he was so happy! You were a healthy baby with this little tuft of hair and chubby cheeks. Your father always got this certain grin on his face whenever I handed him our children for the first time, and I knew as soon as he got the chance, he’d go run off to cry in private. He was sweet—in a very dorky way.”

Sasuke digests her words, like he wants to memorize every single one. He hesitates before speaking, but Mikoto waits patiently. “It was only for a minute…but I saw him on the floor. _ All the blood. _ I don’t want to remember that. Father didn’t talk to me much, but I wanna remember him _ alive. _”

Mikoto can understand that. She wants to remember them all as they were, and not the carnage across their home. It’s hard, but Mikoto rests her chin on Sasuke’s head and continues.

“You have the same rough hair as him, you know. You take more after me of course, but that hair texture is all his. I used to run my fingers through his hair when he’d rest his head on my lap. He’d be so overworked or stressed that he’d get sick to his stomach. I always told him to take it easy, but he wouldn’t unless I made him. Sometimes, he’d cook, and he was pretty good at it too. I’d hate it when his sukiyaki came out better than mine just because I hate losing. We got along well, your father and me. I didn’t expect to. When I was first told I would marry Uchiha Fugaku, the clan head’s son, I packed a bag and got ready to flee to Kumo. It seemed like the better option. Uzumaki Kushina, my dearest friend, told me he was probably a wimp. She said he’d be a boring strict husband. I was ready to accept that, but I ended up caring about that crybaby. He was brave and strong, and he was a loving man. Sometimes he wasn’t good at showing it. I know he adored you and you being safe and alive would ease any strain on his heart. Your father should’ve shown you he loved you more, Sasuke, but know that he did. He loved you, both of you, so very much.”

Kushina bullied Fugaku relentlessly, but she grew to accept him. She claimed it was like a mushroom accepting its fate as a fungus, but Mikoto appreciated her efforts. Kushina was suspicious of the stern-faced clan head’s son until she heard he was still the crybaby they’d heard of in their academy days. Fugaku still sighed as his gaze wandered when they passed the Nara compound, and Kushina would look at Mikoto with the same wistful smile. Fugaku complained about Kushina’s exuberance and kidnapping attempts of their firstborn, but Mikoto knew it was all for show. Kushina did the same exact same claiming Fugaku needed to let loose and complained about his long hours at the police station.

Kushina eventually gave her blessing to the arranged marriage of the Uchiha head family, but Mikoto could never fully accept Minato. Even if their marriage was one of love, the thought of it always brought a sour taste to her mouth. She sometimes wondered if Kushina thought the same of Mikoto’s own marriage: putting duty above all else. She never got the chance to ask. The Kyuubi was released. Kushina died, along with Minato. Naruto was left alone with only the Kyuubi resealed within him for company.

Everyone loved Minato, but Mikoto could only tolerate him in spurts.

Minato was a genius; that was undisputed. He was sharp as a whip in the shinobi arts and he devoured seals and academics with the reverence of a scholar. He also knew how to get others to dance to his tune. His smile was always wide and welcoming across his beautiful face. People adored him. He was easy to like. Mikoto never thought much of him. No matter what he did, she didn’t think he could be good enough for Kushina no matter how much he proclaimed his love.

Good men don’t earn the nickname _ The Butcher _.

For all of Minato’s warmth, Mikoto saw an apathy towards bloodshed, a ruthlessness in his eyes, that she couldn’t disregard. He was a cat with his claws tucked away. Minato might’ve been able to understand reasonings and logic of peace, justice, and good will, but Mikoto wasn’t sure he truly felt it.

Fugaku was always warmed by his attempts to understand their clan. But Mikoto saw the scholarly boy with his amused smile and gritted her teeth. _How quaint!_ Probably crossed his mind when Fugaku regaled him with Uchiha history like it were an epic tale. Minato had been named Hokage, and Fugaku had not. Mikoto couldn’t forget that. Minato hadn’t seemed to notice, maybe not even cared, that there was again no Uchiha Hokage, but instead a student of the Third Hokage’s student. If any of the sannin had been able, they probably would’ve been Hokage too. How were they any better than Suna with its line of blood for the position of Kazekage when their Hokages had all been Senju or Senju taught? The clan grumbled about it. Fugaku should’ve been considered further than he had, but he was an Uchiha. His accomplishments in the war, to keep as many of the soldiers under his command alive as possible, were overshadowed by Minato’s death toll. Mikoto had often joked about Fugaku’s soft heart making him unfit for war, but he’d still fought hard. 

Minato played the scatterbrain well when it suited him, but Mikoto couldn’t forget. Both she and Kushina reveled in battle but washed the blood as hard as they could from their skin once it was all over. Minato scratched at the blood under his nails like it was paint. Perhaps he believed in a future of peace, but he was also a man completely fit for war. One doesn’t become a legend without some sort of sacrifice. Peacetime warrior’s tales aren’t told with the same vigor.   
  
Minato became Hokage, while the Uchiha, who helped create the village, were left behind once again. Kushina hadn’t even commented on it. She never really brought up her old dream of being Hokage herself, maybe thinking it was out of grasp for the village jinchuuriki. In her darkest moments, Mikoto wondered if it was just easier for everyone to look the other way. After all, it was easier for Minato to avert his eyes from Kakashi’s pain. Kakashi lost everything, and yet it didn’t matter in the end. Good soldiers aren’t supposed to hurt. Maybe Minato truly hadn’t seen the Uchiha’s plight, and maybe he would’ve just been another Hiruzen had he been given the chance. Mikoto tries to not consider such thoughts.

Everyone always wants to think the best of the dead.

Sasuke gently tugs at his hair as if it’ll make him remember his father’s even better. It makes Mikoto wish for pictures. She has nothing but her swords and her memories. What will happen to all the possession in the Uchiha compound without anyone to claim them? Will teammates? Will valuables be hawked off? Mikoto tries to catalogue ancestral treasures that might be sold to the highest bidder, but she struggles. All she can think of are the pictures. She wonders what will happen to all the baby picture. One of her favorites had been one from when Sasuke was first learning how to crawl. She could’ve shown Sasuke a picture of Itachi, a skinny baby with only two teeth, asleep on his father’s chest. Would that have made her eldest son seem less scary? Mikoto thinks of their last family photo. Fugaku looked constipated, Sasuke a touch too sad, and Itachi too tired—but they’d all been together.

Sasuke’s fingers slide through Mikoto’s silky tresses and Mikoto remembers which of her son's hair is just like her own.

“Mama, I know you don’t want to say his name, but can…can you tell me about Itachi?”

Mikoto wishes she could. She truly does.

For being the boy’s mother, she never felt she truly knew him at all. Maybe because he didn’t know them either. It was a mutual relationship of strangers. Mikoto wishes she knew him as a mother should, but Itachi always kept her at arm’s length. Itachi rarely ever let anyone in, until Shisui, and Shisui took a dive into the Naka River. Itachi let people see what he wanted them to see, because he needed them to see that. Mikoto wonders if it’s a genius thing. Like Minato and Itachi would have understood each other more than she does. After all, her eldest son had always been polite to Hatake Kakashi.

Mikoto sometimes finds herself wondering if maybe she had fought harder, held him more, treasured him more, kept him from violence then maybe she could’ve stopped the massacre before it began. But it happened, so there’s no use dwelling on what ifs. Maybe even if she’d showered him in affection his loyalty to the state still would’ve been stronger. Itachi hadn’t understood the Uchiha. He hadn’t wanted to.

“Your brother loved dango. He always loved sweet things. He enjoyed reading especially complex strategy and books on theory. Your uncle, Masato, would throw him over his shoulder and call him the little philosopher._ He hated that. _ He always disliked being mocked even if he tried not to show it. Mostly because he hated losing like me, but maybe he had a bit of that pride they say we have hidden underneath. For all your brother’s genius with shinobi arts he wasn’t that bright when it came to people. He’d try and manipulate things to go his way, but he lacked any and all subtly. My mother must be weeping in her grave. She always loved political games and to have a grandchild so inept would’ve killed her twice over. Your father was awkward sometimes, but he could manage himself socially. Your brother could not. He’d stare at someone and if he lost his train of thought he’d just walk away.”

Sasuke huffs, “That’s very rude!”

“Indeed, it is, and that’s why my father took you to lessons instead of him, probably thought they’d be a waste on that boy.”

Mikoto knows there’s a little smile on Sasuke’s of lips. It makes her own lips quirk. He’s probably remembering Elder Sengen, her father, whispering dramatically for Sasuke to keep their journey a secret. Mikoto caught her father trying to teach Sasuke the flute. She’d seen Sasuke practicing calligraphy when he should’ve been doing homework. They’re happy memories.

Sasuke’s face falls and he whispers so quietly Mikoto almost doesn’t hear it.

“Does Itachi hate Uchiha?”

Mikoto has wondered the same thing. She said they lived with a spy: that Itachi hated them for the sole fact they were Uchiha, but there was still more to it than that. Mikoto still can’t fully gasp it herself. She isn’t sure how to convey all her thoughts to her seven-year-old son.

“He didn’t understand. For all his brilliance, he just didn’t understand why we had our plans for change,” Mikoto says. “I can’t say I understand him either. Maybe he was manipulated like a good puppet by those around him, but even then, that doesn’t excuse what he’s done. So many are dead, Sasuke, so many innocent people. He never tried to understand. He made his choice. I despise it, but I don’t understand it either and I’ve tried—I really tried.”

What is a revolution to the person who stands at the side of those in power—but a threat.


	4. Weapons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikoto must take up her swords once again.

The duel dao blades, passed from Uchiha to Uchiha, had a name once. 

Uchiha Torabana said, as she gently placed the swords into Mikoto’s hands, that the swords’ names had been lost to time. 

Mikoto hadn’t thought much of it at the time. She’d been focusing on keeping her hands from trembling. It wasn’t fear that made her shake, but pride. The expertly tempered blade glimmering in the light only made it harder to keep her face humble. Her own mother watched with a demure smile, but Mikoto could see the hint of smugness hidden behind a carefully placed paper fan. It was not the clan heads’ sons who would be gifted an ancestral weapon. The clan had so few, so precious they were, they were not handed out carelessly. Neither the eldest or second son earned the honor, but  _ she _ did. 

Lady Torabana told her the dao blades had been passed down through out the clan for centuries. Wield them well, she said. They chose you. Their steel will never falter so long as your strike is always true. 

Mikoto treasured them on the battlefield. The blades always sliced cleanly and never dulled. After her marriage, she asked Kushina to help her create a storage seal on her skin. She wanted to always keep the swords near, just in case. Their time on the battlefield had come to a close, but she had no desire to pass them on to another just yet. 

Her children never knew the story of Ryuichi coming to her house and demanding the blades. The jilted clan heir, used to being the favored son, couldn’t bear the shame of his mother’s open displeasure for the entire clan to witness. Mikoto held the swords to Ryuichi’s throat for his trouble and said for each blade she’d take a limb. Then, he could match her dear eldest brother. Mikoto’s children didn’t know many stories of Merciless Mikoto. They knew a gentle and loving mother who did not fight. They saw a woman, hands covered in sudsy dish soap, and never a warrior soaked in blood. Mikoto watched her eldest son practicing forms with his tanto in the yard and silently noted the weak points in his swing. Sasuke never thought to ask his mother for help with his shuriken practice. Mikoto often thought of returning to active duty once Sasuke was old enough. She wondered what they would think of her. Would they see her the same? Fugaku promised her they would. He told her in the end it was her decision. 

Now she has no choice, but to take up the sword once again. 

Fugaku is gone. Her brothers are gone. Every young and strong Uchiha shinobi, every man and woman, can no longer fight on her behalf. The time for standing aside, away from fighting is over. Sasuke is only a boy, and it she must protect him 

There is no one else to protect them now. 

After the war, it was easier to quit dreaming of missions. Her injuries helped, but the young girl who saw battle as adventure drifted away with every Uchiha casualty. Fugaku didn’t go outside the village much after becoming police chief, but he was still out of the compound. He always valued her input in police matters and trusted her to manage the clan when he wasn’t able, but as a young woman she couldn’t say she hadn’t resented every dirty dish and diaper. His attempts to help after she snapped a comment at him about it did warm her. 

Fugaku would run over his police report plans to her as they folded laundry together. Mikoto once tied the sling with a sleeping baby Sasuke to Fugaku’s chest as he went out for groceries. Sometimes, Fugaku would ask if she wanted to spar. They’d go to an abandoned training ground and practice taijutsu. Mikoto remembers laughing as she laid her head on his stomach; both of them drenched in sweat as Fugaku whined about losing again. They’d rush home to get dinner started before Sasuke came back from the academy. 

Mikoto runs her fingers along the light armor across her lap and sighs. In those moments, she hadn’t thought of taking up her swords. She thought of what she could make for dinner that Itachi might like. She thought of funny stories that might make Sasuke smile. Battle and missions slipped from her mind when she was reading at the tatami table and Fugaku dropped a small bag of kaki no tane onto it. He’d always pretend, everytime, like it was an accident when he came home bearing snacks. She had a routine, a home, a family. The girl she’d been would’ve scoffed at her domesticity. That girl would’ve loved to have her blades strapped to her back. That girl would’ve celebrated the thought of new armor. Now, as a woman, Mikoto wishes for the peace she once shared with her family. 

Time and her two children had taken her from warrior to mother. Mikoto doesn’t regret it. Her marriage might have been the will of her parents but she does not regret Fugaku, and she certainly doesn’t regret Sasuke. After every child, she tried to keep her body in top fighting condition. She might not have been a shinobi after her marriage, she still held by her mantra her father taught her. One must be strong in their world of shinobi. Her pressure on herself was less out of vanity and more from fear. She was Lady Uchiha and it was her duty to protect the clan from within. 

Neither her, not Fugaku managed to protect the clan, but she can at least keep Sasuke from following their fate. She started trying to train harder as soon as Tala deemed her able. As the days drag on into weeks, Mikoto practices with her swords. They’d once felt like they were apart of her, and now she must relearn their dance. Sasuke watches her from the porch, but shakes his head when she tries to encourage him into a few stances. He sits on her back as she does push-ups, but he won’t count for her. He talks on occasion, but Mikoto doesn’t pressure him about his silences. He’d been chatty before, but things are different now. When Tala brought in an armorer to take her measurements, the older man spoke in a timbre that rang of Uzushio. Sasuke hide behind her legs the entire time. 

Mikoto worries. If any shinobi from Konoha cross their path she needs to be ready. If Itachi comes back for her, she can’t just lay down and die. She not only worries about becoming a good enough shinobi again, but also whether she is a good enough mother. Tala assures her she’s a good mother, any would be while protecting their child. She says choices need to be made should Mikoto walk the road alone, but Mikoto brushes that off. She tries to encourage Sasuke, and comfort him, but there’s only so much she can do. He’s grieving and she wants to take away all of his pain, but all she can do his hold him as he cries at night. She tries to work together a routine for him, but Tala’s house is not their home. 

The discomfort and grief is blatant in his every action, but there is also a loneliness. Mikoto spends nearly every waking moment with him. Sometimes he’ll sit inside while she trains, but more often than not he’s always with her. That doesn’t mean he’s not lonely. In the clan, Sasuke hadn’t wanted for playmates. He hadn’t been overly close to anyone, too busy running after his brother and Shisui, but he had children his age to play with. 

Mikoto tries to draw him into games with her, but she knows he grows bored of it. As the days pass, the wistful look on his face only grows. She wishes he could have other children to play with. There are many children in the nearest town, but Mikoto has only visited there in disguise. Sasuke has never been. It isn’t safe. He needs something constructive. He doesn’t seem inclined to train with the sword for now, but Mikoto knows other lessons that can be taught. 

Sasuke kicks his feet back and forth on the porch. Weeds tickle his naked feet, but he just watches the gentle back and forth sway of the grass. Mikoto sheathes her swords and wipes the sweat from her brow. She takes a seat next to Sasuke and pinches his cheek. He grumbles, but doesn’t look at her. Mikoto tries again, this time by pinching his cheek and shaking it. 

Sasuke whines.“Mama!”

Mikoto chuckles.“I just wanted to tell you I had an idea.”

Sasuke rubs at his face while mumbling under his breath. “You could just say so like a normal person.”

“I was thinking that it’s time for you to start your lessons. Not only your writing, reading, geography, but also history and etiquette—everything a proper heir should know. I think it would be good for you to take up the sword, but I won’t press you on that. There’s time for it.” Mikoto pulls him closer to her side and says, “You’ll be strong one day. I know you will be.”

Sasuke twiddles his fingers in his lap, “But what if I’m not? Brother was always strong, and I could never catch up. Everyone always said how strong he was. What if I can’t be that strong and then I can’t protect you.”

It always came down to the younger feeling inferior to the elder. Mikoto tried to dissuade it. Fugaku never seemed to see the issue wasn’t about encouraging friendly brotherly rivalry, but Sasuke’s self esteem being shot down at every turn. How could Sasuke shine when he was compared to a boy who surpassed not only his peers but his elders as well. Sasuke isn’t his brother, and for that Mikoto is grateful, but Sasuke even now sees his elder brother as a barrier to overcome. But now its no longer a test of skill, but for a fight for their lives. If Itachi decides to kill her...Mikoto doesn’t even want to consider what would become of Sasuke. 

“I told you, sweetheart, I’ll protect  _ you _ . If you cannot fight with swords than I will be strong enough for the both of us, but you’re young. You’ll grow. I know it in my heart. And remember this, I want you to learn etiquette and the like because they are their own strength, and even Itachi didn’t have them. It’s a matter of how you wield the weapons you are given, no matter what they may be.”

Sasuke scrunches his nose, “I don’t see how tea ceremonies could be weapons.”

“Sometimes politeness and alliance strikes hardest where the katana cannot. You’ll learn in time what that means. I’ll make you strong if you wish to be.”

Sasuke still looks at her swords with a wariness. He remembers Itachi’s. He stretches with her in the mornings, but doesn’t want to practice sword forms. When Mikoto sits down with him after his bath, brushing his damp hair, he listens as she recites from memory stories from the history of the Uchiha. 

Tala asks her what her plans are once again. Mikoto imagines the Leaf village in flames. She sees blood on her own hands. The anger and thirst for vengeance builds, until Sasuke proudly shows her his latest art lesson. He’ll never be a great artist, but Mikoto tells him the arts are important to learn for any well taught boy. A shakuhachi would remind her too much of her father, even though Sasuke had been learning it before. Dancing is out for similar reasons, so art it is. Sasuke furrows his brow as he concentrates, crayons gently being brushed over the paper. He looks so much like his father when he does it. 

Vengeance will come in time. She’ll ensure it, but she must be patient. 

Sasuke needs her. 

Mikoto says, “We’ll manage. I’ll see to the safety of my son, and we’ll make our way from there.” Mikoto pours a cup of tea for Tala, “You don’t need to worry about me storming the gates of Konoha just yet.”

Tala nods, “I should hope not. I’ve been worried you’d sneak out in the middle of the night and a messenger would be telling me that village had executed you before you could even blink. What would I do with that boy? Send him to the Uzumaki?”

Mikoto sips her own cup of tea, “I’m sorry for worrying you. I can promise you, that whenever I go Sasuke will go with me. I will protect us.”

“I pray you will, Lady Uchiha.” 


	5. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going from many to two is a lonely experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Past Mikoto/Fugaku heavy chapter because I miss writing Fugaku. Some past Mikoto/Kushina, but they'll get a chapter focus later.

It feels cruel when Sasuke’s eighth birthday comes around. 

Time doesn’t seem to pass in Tala’s house, but it still continues on in a slow staggering march. Every day is another day where she wakes up and remembers it isn’t Fugaku in the futon next to her, but Sasuke is sweating through yet another nightmare. Fugaku might have stayed at the police station more than Mikoto or Sasuke liked but the realization he won’t ever again walk in greeting her with a tired “I’m home” makes a tightness settle in her chest.

Sasuke’s birthday creeping up on them both only makes it all the more apparent. If everyone were alive, Sasuke would’ve been greeted with congratulations and smiles throughout the compound. With how tense things were it would’ve been a struggle to keep Fugaku home, but Mikoto could’ve talked him into it. Itachi probably wouldn’t have shown, but a present dropped off in Sasuke’s room wasn’t out of the question. They would’ve had dinner together, Sasuke’s favorites, and watched Sasuke open the gifts from them and his relatives. Sasuke wasn’t a big fan of sweets, but he’d eat a piece of lemon cake if it was shared with family. 

Things won’t ever be like again, but it can’t hurt to try for some normality. Mikoto asks Tala to help her bake a lemon cake. She tries to cook Sasuke’s favorite foods. Sasuke doesn’t even want to get out of bed to see it. She knows his thoughts are the same as her own. How can they celebrate his life when everyone else is dead? Mikoto might treasure it, but Sasuke can only think of all the other children who won’t celebrate their birthdays. All of Sasuke’s plans he might have had for his birthday will never be. Itachi won’t keep his promises to train him. Fugaku won’t give him the shuriken he’d been eyeing. Nothing will ever be the same. 

Mikoto lays down next to him and says, “I know it’s harder today than other days, and there will be worse days too, but you shouldn’t feel guilty you’re alive. Another birthday is good. Your father would be happy to know you lived to eight, and twelve, and sixteen, and thirty.”

Sasuke mumbles into his pillow, “Itachi’s was last month.”

“And your father’s birthday is next month. When our anniversary passed, all I could think of was our wedding day. Fugaku was a nervous wreck. I couldn’t stop thinking about it because Fugaku promised me for our next anniversary we’d spend the day together. He’d been so busy the house often felt like it just had me and you in it. I kept thinking about all my plans and how they were just ...gone.”

Sasuke sniffles, “That was when you weren’t training, right? You said you didn’t feel good.”

“Yes, I was so upset I didn’t want to train or eat. I just wanted to stay in bed. I know you do too, but won’t you have dinner with me? I made lemon cake.”

“Father always ate most of the cake,” Sasuke hides a smile. 

Mikoto laughs, “Lemon wasn’t even his favorite flavor! He’d pout about the cake being lemon, and then eat enough of it you couldn’t even tell. I’d tell him I’d make a dark chocolate one for  _ his _ birthday, but I wasn’t going to go out of my way to appease him on your’s.”

“We can make a dark chocolate on on Father’s birthday, but you gotta eat it.” 

“Okay, I will. Will you try a bite of it at least?”

Sasuke’s face scrunches up in disgust. 

He picks at his dinner, but he still eats a full slice of his cake. The small glint of joy in his eyes as he blows out the candle is a glimmer of light amidst the sorrow. Sasuke blushes when Mikoto gifts him a small teddy bear. It’s can’t replace his old dinosaur, but he still tucks it close to his chest when he goes to sleep that night. 

The next day, a surprise visitor comes to visit Tala. The woman, Reiko, brings a gift for Sasuke and news from Konoha. Sasuke fiddles with his new mind game, while Tala brings out the tea. 

“It’s an honor to meet you, Lady Uchiha. I only wish it had been under better circumstances.”

“As do I, but please there’s no need for any formalities now. Mikoto is fine. I’m more concerned with what you said about recent information from Konoha.”

“Yes,” Reiko says, “I’ve picked up things here and there, but it looks like Konoha is saying your eldest son slaughtered the Uchiha as a sort of test of his ability. No survivors aside from him, so if they know of your survival they probably want to keep it quiet. They’ve declared him a missing-nin, but there doesn’t really seem to be any effort put towards recovering him. There’s been whispers he joined up with a mercenary group, and this same group was believed to have Orochimaru as a member.”

“They didn’t put much effort into catching that Orochimaru either,” Tala replies

Mikoto wonders if her son is the one keeping her survival quiet, and if so why. She knows Hiruzen wouldn’t, but Danzo might if he wanted to quietly acquire an asset without interference from the village. Mikoto hopes her son won’t get involved with Orochimaru, but the village just might ask it of him. She still gives Reiko a grateful smile. Information is dangerous to come by, and she’s happy with whatever she can get: whatever can help keep Sasuke safe. 

“Thank you for letting us know.”

Reiko’s kind smile sends an unfamiliar jitteriness to Mikoto’s stomach. She’s a handsome woman with a sharp jaw and curly blonde hair. She’s eager to help Mikoto with any chores she tries to do around the house. When Mikoto tries to start up her training for the day, she can feel Reiko’s eyes never leaving her for long. She laughs a touch too much at Mikoto’s unfunny jokes, and her hands linger with every casual touch. 

The flirting flatters her, but it’s far too early for such things.

Mikoto knows she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t lonely. Even with Sasuke always with her, she still feels so alone. She’d felt lonely when Fugaku spent longer and longer hours away; whether in meetings or nights at the police station. Tala gave her an adult to speak to, but she couldn’t replace the comforting presence of her husband. She missed having someone to hold her at night, and look at her like she was the most beautiful person in the world. 

Fugaku and Kushina are both never far from her mind. Kushina had been her first love, and her best friend. They’d promised to always fight by the other’s side. Mikoto wasn’t above using her status as favored within the clan to get what she wanted, but the most use she got out of it was the ability to run around with Kushina. Kushina brawled, swore, and never bothered with the opinions of others. Mikoto’s aunt Raksasha had a coronary everytime Mikoto brought her into the compound, but Mikoto didn’t care. She always headed the will of her parents, but she wanted the bold Uzu girl as her friend. 

Kushina was bright where Fugaku was conserved. She jumped without looking while he was always cautious. They were so different, and Kushina had never missed an opportunity to ruffle Fugaku’s feathers. Mikoto saw their similarities and wondered if that was why they grabbed her heart. The adoring look in their eyes was like looking into the night sky: immense and engulfing. Kushina let everyone see the intensity of her heart and only a select few saw Fugaku’s. Kushina might’ve only been with her for a short time, but Mikoto treasured the time they had. Mikoto never expected to love Fugaku, but she’s glad she did. Kushina is an older wound, but Fugaku’s is fresh with so many memories. It aches, and yet Mikoto doesn’t want to ever forget her husband and the memories they shared. 

They’d bicker, and joke like friends. It was easier to try and be friends over resentment but it didn’t take long for the question of love to arise. They told her he was too boring. They told him she was too much. Mikoto told him she could love him in time, and he said it back. 

They only wished they had more time. 

* * *

Mikoto said, “I’m pretty sure my mother had eyes on your brother for me. She might’ve prefered Akimomo for him, but Momo was set on Kenta, so I was the next choice for our clan heir.”

Fugaku laughed in disbelief, “Was Elder Otohime insane? He would’ve been dead before you even set eyes on your wedding kimono.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I would’ve done my duty.”

“Okay, then you wouldn’t have killed him. You would’ve poisoned his dinner, and then laughed as he shit himself sick.”

Mikoto snorts, “Maybe so—and then your mother would’ve been upset. I’m glad it ended up being you. I can’t stand Ryuichi, but I think I could fall for you in time.”

Not long after Sasuke’s birth, those were the words she told Fugaku often. 

She cared for Fugaku, even in the early years of their marriage, as much as any of her family. He was her husband and the father of her children through an arranged marriage, but sometimes his smile and steadfast resolve made her wonder. When she would place her hand on the small of his back, he’d always make the funniest squeaking noise when she reached down to pinch his ass. He’d always frown, but chuckle if he thought no one else was around. Fugaku told her the same words. _ I could fall for you in time. _ Their marriage had been rocky at first, as they both tried to move past those they loved before, but they grew closer after the war. Mikoto remembered how caring Fugaku had been during her pregnancy with Sasuke. The gentle look in his eyes as he stroked his hand over her swollen belly said enough. 

There never seemed to be enough time. Their grief and anger with the village let them set aside love. The tense silences and harsh words were abundant, but there had been good times too. 

Mikoto remembered teasing him in the bath. She’d pinch the soft paunch making it’s home on his sides: too many long nights at the desk and stress snacking. He’d roll her eyes at her comment, but never said a word about her own softened body. The stretch marks over her skin were marks of their children. Fugaku had some of his own: weight loss and gain from the war. Muscle returning quickly after it had been starved away left pale lines that Mikoto softly traced. Every small moment pushed her ever so closer to falling in love with him. 

They’d be lying in bed as Fugaku leaned over her, holding himself up on his forearms. His dark brown hair fell down around his face and tickled her cheeks. His blush went all the way down to his chest, but he was still grinning like a fool. Mikoto wrapped her arms around her neck and pulled him into a kiss before he could try waxing poetic nonsense about her eyes or something equally ridiculous. 

He was always hesitant. His father’s reputation for promiscuity and his mother’s expectations made a proper man out of him. He often let Mikoto take the lead. Even after years of marriage, Fugaku still preferred when she initiated affection of any sort. They were still comfortable with one another: each other’s own nude bodies as familiar to the other as their own. 

Fugaku’s hand on her thigh, her’s sweeping the broad plane of his back, as their eyes met sharingan to sharingan. They both used their eyes to remember the good moments. 

Fugaku rested his forehead against hers and asked. “Would you be angry if I fell in love with you?” 

The girl Mikoto loved was dead, and the boy Fugaku loved was alive but out of reach. Neither thought their marriage for the clan would be anything but a collar and chain.

“No, because I could fall in love with you. Would you be angry if I did.” 

Fugaku kisses her again, only a peck, as he tries to contain his smile “No.” 

Uchiha love deeply and completely. Mikoto supposes if she were to love again after Kushina, Fugaku wasn’t a bad choice at all.

Once Mikoto encouraged him go into Sasuke’s room to take his dinosaur plush. Sasuke refused to let her wash it, but Mikoto couldn’t bear the thought of his sticky toy wandering around any longer. Fugaku silently snuck in and wiggled the dinosaur out from under Sasuke’s arm. Mikoto watched from the door as Fugaku gently brushed Sasuke’s bangs away from his face. 

She whispered, “I think I might be falling in love with you.”

Fugaku froze, his eyes widened in shock. He nearly dropped Sasuke’s toy back into his bed. Mikoto was starting to regret opening her mouth until Fugaku smiled softly. He put Sasuke’s toy into her hands and pressed a kiss against her hair as he walked past. 

“That good,” he said. “ because I’m already in love with you.”

If only they had more time. 

They’d both been caught up in playing their parts: the strong clan head, the gentle wife, with the perfect children.  _ It was all just a ruse. _

_ There just wasn't enough time.  _

Mikoto held onto Fugaku. Her fingers dug into the back of his shirt. She whispered the truth. She’d tried so hard to keep her composure, but her tears didn’t heed her commands. 

“I don’t wanna die, Fugaku. I don’t want to leave Sasuke.”

“I know, I know. I don’t either, but Itachi doesn’t need to see our pain. We must make this easier for him. There’s no other way now. I’m sorry.”

His own tears soak into her shoulder. 

Fugaku took her face into his hands. He wiped away her tears, as his own eyes were red from both crying and his sharingan. “Thank you. Thank you for being my wife. I’m sorry I wasn’t better for us. I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger, smarter, better, so it might not have come to this. I’m sorry I couldn’t save us. Even though I know what will happen when Itachi comes through that door, I don’t regret our children. Thank you for them. I love them. I love you. Thank you for staying by my side—through everything.”

Mikoto wishes it hadn’t taken death for her to tell him those same words. 

“I love you too, Fugaku. I really do.”

Mikoto steadied her nerves and dabbed Fugaku’s eyes. Itachi didn’t need to see their pain. Fugaku held her until they heard the faint sliding of the entry door. They knelt down in the tatami room, side by side, and waited. 

Itachi was here.

It was time. 

* * *

Mikoto rebukes Reiko’s advances. Reiko doesn’t take it too harshly. Her grief still palatable, Reiko only apologizes if she was too forward. Not wanting her to think there was any insult, They share a drink together on the porch. Sasuke bothers them about trying sake, until Tala pulls him away for his calligraphy lessons. 

Reiko chuckles as she watches him stomp away. She turns back to Mikoto and asks, “How long do you think you’ll be at Tala’s?

“I’ve healed up as well I can,” Mikoto replies, “I’ve been thinking for a while it’s time for Sasuke and I to move on.” 

“I’m heading towards Earth Country to get to Bear, so if you want to head North I can help.” 

“Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think we’ll be heading North.” 

Reiko raises a brow, “You’re not doing anything with Leaf are you?” 

Mikoto laughs, “Tala had the same worry. She’ll be upset when I tell her we’re leaving, but I think it’s safer for us to keep moving. If we need to, we’ll return.” 

“Please tell me your not headed towards Kumo with that boy? Bloodline thieves love to hide in those mountains.” 

“No, but I do need to make sure Sasuke knows how to swim.” 

Mikoto needs to know how the underground worked. There is only one place where she can truly slip into the dark unseen where so many others so. Konoha won’t look in the heart of an enemy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, some plot movement as Mikoto and Sasuke leave the Land of Fire.


	6. Purge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Encounters in the Land of Water.

Kirigakure is a long standing enemy of Konoha. 

They’d been against Konoha in every war. It was Kiri, Kumo, and Iwa who decimated Uzushiogakure. In the third war, Mikoto heard whispers from Kushina it had been Kiri that played a part in the death of one of Minato’s students. 

Kumogakure is another old enemy, but not an option. She admires their swordsman culture, different from the samurai in Iron country, but doesn’t want to risk their interest in the byakugan turning to the sharingan. She can’t afford kneeling to any village. 

Suna is out for practical reasons: the desert. 

Iwa is out for their sheer hatred of anything Konoha. Mikoto can’t even fault them for it. She’d seen the fields of Kusa piled with Iwa shinobi. 

Mikoto never noticed before how Konoha seemed to be the only one that stood alone. 

Kiri, Iwa, Kumo, Suna: all took their turns throwing their shinobi at the war beast of Konoha. They’d had alliances in the war, and Konoha could barely manage a non-aggression pact. Yet, Konoha claimed they were for peace. Hashirama Senju might have desired peace, and yet some called the Second Shinobi World War the war Konoha started.

In the Second War, Hatake Sakumo brought Suna to its knees as his kinsmen fell one after the other around him. Minato fought the man who would be Kumogakire’s Raikage, and decimated Iwa platoons. Mikoto couldn’t even recall the symbols on the forehead protectors of all the shinobi she’d fought. 

There’d been so many. 

Mikoto can hope Itachi faked her death, used another woman’s corpse to cover up her absence. But if Konoha is looking for her, they won’t think to look in Kiri. 

Tala doesn’t try asking Mikoto to stay, but she does beg her to be careful. She gives Mikoto lists of as many Uchiha allies as she could find, and tells her the Uchiha will always find a place at her table. Mikoto can’t express her gratitude enough, but she still tries. Sasuke doesn’t even complain when Mikoto hauls him onto her back. He’s too busy trying not to cry. Mikoto plans on running through Fire until they get to the Land of Noodles. After that, it's a matter of finding a boat willing to take her into Water Country. 

The warnings of Water Country’s turbulent economic and political climate fully hit home when she gets off the boat to one of the smaller islands of Water Country to be greeted by two men fighting over a stolen noblewoman’s purse. No one steps in, averting their eyes from the scene as they all keep walking. Mikoto tells Sasuke not to stare as they do the same. Dirty faced children run wild through the streets. Sasuke isn’t afraid when they approach him until one tries to snatch his backpack off his back. 

Sasuke asks, “Mama, how come Water Country is like this?”

Mikoto pulls Sasuke closer to her as they walk. “What I’ve heard is the relationship is difficult between the Water Daimyo and the Mizukage. People have always said Kiri is very bloodthirsty, but some say things have been getting bad for the citizens. Shinobi leave the village in droves. It’s why Kiri has the biggest sector of Hunter-nin among all the hidden villages. Because of all the unrest, trade suffers. They rely heavily on fish in their diet, but what about other necessities? When the entire country is hurting, it’s those at the bottom of the strata who suffer the most. The daimyo might be dining like a king while his people starve. The shinobi run rampant and unchecked. Desperate people can do desperate things, Sasuke.”

His little face puffs up at the injustice of it all, “That’s not right!”

“It isn’t: few things ever are. The war impacted many of the countries, and Konoha might have prospered economically, but not everyone. Suna is stagnating, and you can see now what is happening to Kiri.”

Sasuke’s nose wrinkles at the mention of Konoha, but he doesn’t bring it up where any ears could hear. “Why are we going to Kiri then?”

“I need to look into some things, sweetie.”

Tala had warned Mikoto that the life of a bounty hunter isn’t fit for her. Sasuke clings to her leg if she so much as goes out for more milk. Doing the work of a missing nin might put her on Itachi’s radar as well. He is said to have joined a mercenary group. On one hand, Mikoto wants to avoid that at all cost, and on the other she wants to learn everything she can about the group. Part of her wants to keep an eye on her wayward son. The only way she can get that kind of information is in seedier areas and with questionable company. 

The bar Mikoto walks into reeks of stale beer and cigarette smoke. Swords and weapons of many kinds hang on the hips and backs of the patrons. Few glance up from their cups when Mikoto walks in, but those that do give her son a questioning look. Sasuke’s fingers cling tighter to her hakama. A pat on the head helps ease his nerves, while sharp glares at any who don’t avert their eyes settles her own. She takes a seat and lifts Sasuke into the stool next to her. 

A drunk man in the next stool cackles into his glass, sloshing the alcohol over the sides. 

“Lady, this ain’t a daycare. Take your brat and run on home.”

Mikoto orders juice for Sasuke when the barman asks. It’s overpriced, but she doesn't call him out on it. Sasuke grimaces at the sticky bar, and frowns at the scantily clad women hanging around some of the men. Mikoto thinks it’s funny, but she hopes no one else notices his upturned nose. She knows all too well this is no place for a child. She doesn’t need some drunk telling her that. “I’m aware. My son and I are just passing through. We’re headed to Kirigakure.”

The man burps and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’d be better off going anywhere else. A lady like you like you should take your kid and go to Tea Country or something. Things in Kiri aren’t good for anybody, let alone some girl and her brat.” He points at the forehead protector around his neck with a crossed out Kumo symbol adorned on its center, “I’m not even from Kiri and I know that. I’ve been hearing things from other folks. Didn’t you hear what they did to the Kaguya Clan?”

Mikoto tucks her hair behind her ear, “I heard things have been getting bad, but—”

A woman with scars that stretch the skin of her face interrupts. “Bad? It ain’t just bad over there. Kiri’s bleeding so much the entire Kaizoku Sea might be red by now. It’s war over there, and if you’re not fighting you’re running. Have you heard whatever’s up with their Kage? I think someone attempted a takeover and it went down the shitter.”

The man downs the rest of his drink and adds, “Two words: _ Bloodline purges _.” 

Only two words, yet they convey the true gravity of the situation in Kiri. Mikoto hadn’t heard of what they did to the Kaguya Clan, or any others, but she can understand it well. 

Sasuke shrinks into his seat. He murmurs into his juice, “Mama, I don’t wanna go to Kiri.”

The man tries to give Mikoto a friendly elbow to the ribs, but she smacks his arm away. The man jokes, “Mama, he doesn’t want to go to Kiri and frankly I don’t think anyone sane would.”

She glares at the man, “Please do not call me that.” Her eyes are much softer when she turns to Sasuke, “Well figure things out, sweetie. Don’t worry about it.”

The woman scoffs when Mikoto’s tone changes to soft and sweet, but the tension in her shoulders seems to lessen. She says, “If you’re looking for a place to stay there’s an inn further in town that’s decent. It charges out the ass, but you’re not going to find many places that don’t.”

“Thank you for the recommendation all the same.” 

Mikoto can’t help the small laugh that escapes when the woman turns beet red. She loves when her politeness unsettles people. Sasuke pouts and starts climbing up her legs. He’s always making sure she never lingers anywhere for too long. Mikoto thinks he’s a bit dramatic when he takes big gulping breaths of fresh air once they’re out of the bar. She doesn’t even know where he could have gotten it from. Fugaku was never like that. 

“It smelled like butt in there!” Sasuke exclaims. 

“It did not,” Mikoto scolds. "There was certainly a permanent haze of smoke, and a few of the customers had bad body odor, but you must learn to be polite even if you don’t like the company you’re with.” 

“So you didn’t like those people?” Sasuke asks. 

Mikoto shrugs, “I didn’t trust them. I didn’t know them well enough to have any idea of like, but I know a certain someone came off as a _ very _ spoiled little boy.”

“If I’m spoiled whose fault is that?”

Mikoto’s steps falter. “Your father’s?” She suggests. 

Sasuke only levels her a hard look. "You're the same as me, Mama.”

Mikoto hangs her head in shame. She knows it, but he doesn’t have to call her out on it. 

“Why are you so cold to your own mother?”

Sasuke sticks out his tongue, and grabs his mother’s hand. Mikoto tries not to let on how much it means to her Sasuke is joking with her again. She can handle his quiet moments. During those times, he usually clings and never complains. But it makes Mikoto value the times Sasuke gets prickly and boisterous all that much more. 

They’re almost to the hotel when it starts to drizzle. Mikoto laughs at the way Sasuke glares at the sky like it offended him personally. She tried explaining to him that the fog wasn’t as intense on some islands as in Kirigakure, but that doesn’t mean they don’t get their fair share of dreary weather. Born and raised in Fire Country, Sasuke is used to moderate heat and humidity with average rainfall. 

After snagging an old newspaper to hold over her son’s head, Mikoto laughs as they jog once the rainfall picks up. "Just be grateful it’s not Rain Country! They certainly live up to their name.”

Sasuke doesn’t find it that funny. 

The woman from the bar hadn’t lied. Mikoto had stayed in rough places in her time as a shinobi but she knew Sasuke would be upset if he saw a single roach. It is decent at least. The motel could use a fresh coat of paint, but all trash is swept off the porch. There’s no graffiti on the walls. The lanterns out front give off a pleasant welcoming glow. Hopefully it won’t cost too much. 

Sasuke tugs on her shirt and points into the nearby alley. “Mama, what’s over there?”

Mikoto squints through the rain into the darkened alleyway. Favoring his left leg, a heavily bandaged man staggers out into the rain. His feet slide in the dirt, and one trembling hand remains clutched to his side. Mikoto considers minding her own business, especially with the gigantic sword on the man’s back, but then a smaller figure peeks out from behind him. Little hands try and support the man. The child can’t be any older than Sasuke. 

Mikoto calls out to him. “Excuse me! Do you need help, Sir?”

The man’s hand goes for his sword, but the movement seems to be too much for him as he groans in pain. He coughs, hacking and wet, as the child next to him hovers and tries to help. 

The man shouts, “The fuck do you want, Woman? I’m a bit busy at the moment so I ain’t buying any ass. I ain’t giving no one no money, and if you got some sorta vendetta against me piss the hell off.”

Mikoto ushers Sasuke to go stand under the motel porch awning, and before she tries to assist the struggling man. “Well, that’s rude. I don’t have an interest in any of those things. I was just asking if you needed any help. You’ll catch a cold staying out in the rain in your condition. Please, let me help you.”

Up close, Mikoto sees the man’s short dark hair is plastered to his forehead: from the rain, but mostly from sweat. What stands out most if the forehead protector tied to the side of his head: the symbol of Kirigakure is crossed out. The man’s eyes narrow and his scowl, partially hidden by bandages over his mouth, deepens when she comes closer. The child next to him eyes her curiously, but doesn’t seem to register her as a threat. The child just sweeps their thick damp hair away from their face and looks to the man. The man snarls when Mikoto tries to take his elbow to lead him to the motel. He jerks it away and pulls the kid behind him. 

“Stay the fuck away. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Mikoto frowns, “Alright, then come out here and walk five paces.”

The man’s legs quiver at the mention, but he still takes a couple uneasy steps. Each breath forcing itself from his chest, strained and short against his moist bandages. 

“Fuck you.”

Mikoto surveys the child hiding behind the man. The child is pretty with wide eyes like Sasuke, only instead of a dark black the child’s are a chocolate brown. She doesn’t see much resemblance between the man and the child, but they have a similar look in their eyes. 

She tells the child, “I’ll help your daddy inside, but you should get out of the rain. My son is sitting on the porch, and then we can get some rooms. Does that sound good to you?”

The child looks to the man and when he receives a growl in response the child nods and darts off for cover from the downpour. His poor yukata is soaked at the shoulders, and his geta leave imprints in the mud. 

The man finally lets Mikoto touch him, but he grumbles about it when she accidentally irritates his injuries. As they walk, he says. “I sure as hell ain’t his fucking daddy. The brat is with me, but he ain’t mine.”

“It’s still sweet of you to adopt him.”

The man nearly chokes on his own spit, “That ain’t it either!”

“Either way, I’m sure he’s lucky to have someone strong like you looking after him.”

“You’re buttering me up,” the man chuckles.“ I thought you said you weren’t interested in ass.”

Mikoto snorts, “With your injuries you’re not going to be doing anything of _ that _sort for a long time. I’m also not interested.”

“You got a nice body.” The man leers, “Pretty thing like you should have someone strong to look after her too.”

Shoving the man up the steps to the motel, feels like just payment. He swears and stumbles, but his little follower helps him through the front door. Mikoto rings the water out of her own hair and takes Sasuke’s hand back into her own. Sasuke whispers to her about the pretty little boy, and asks if the injured dangerous looking man is his father. Mikoto only shushes him as she orders a room that overpriced like everything else, but the front desk does give her a towel to dry off with. The injured man leans up against a wall, his sword digging into the wallpaper, as the little boy reminds him in a hushed tone that they don’t have any more money. 

The man glares when Mikoto orders another room and tosses him the key, but takes it anyway. 

The front desk manager doesn’t even blink. Many motels around Kiri, or any that cater to shinobi really, tend to learn not to ask questions. 

The man marches after her down the hall, half dragging himself. The child waves at Sasuke and keeps in step, but doesn’t try and stop the man from his quest. When Mikoto opens the door to her room for the night, the man slams his arm across the door leaving a red streak on the wood. 

“What’s your deal, bitch?”

Mikoto shrugs. “I wasn’t going to let you go back out into the rain with that boy just because you can’t get a room.”

“You want my dick that bad, huh?”

Mikoto holds onto the back of Sasuke’s shirt so he doesn’t throw himself at the man in a rage. Sasuke is a smart boy, but he also doesn’t like acknowledging fights he knows he can’t win. He puffs up in indignation, her little hero, but even injured Mikoto doesn’t doubt the man’s large blade, with a hole perfect for heads, would slice through her son easily. 

“No, but I can help with your wounds. I’m not a medic, but I know some basics and I have a fresh medical kit. It’s less about you and more about that boy. He can’t be any older than my son, and if whoever gave you those injuries is still looking for you I think you deserve the chance to be ready for them. I wouldn’t say it’s all out of the goodness of my heart. You’re from Kiri, and I planned on going there. I’ve recently left my village as well under dubious circumstances, so I’m curious about your...shall we say—employment.”

The man’s shoulders drop, but Mikoto can see the beginnings of a snarl underneath his bandages. One doesn’t live properly as a shinobi without being able to read faces under partial masks at the very least. He looks like he wants to fight, but a glance at the kid, who is also sporting a couple bandages, makes him reconsider. He shoves his way into Mikoto’s room, and Sasuke gasps at the audacity. 

“Name’s Momochi Zabuza. Brat’s Haku. Don’t need to tell me your names if it means anything, but you got any issue with mine then say so. I’ll tell you some shit that’s not important if you give me some pain pills. My side won’t stop fucking burning.”

Mikoto peers at his bleeding right side, “My name is Mikoto and this is my son Sasuke. I don’t have any issue with you, but I think I might have heard of you once. I’d guess you’re getting a decent infection there by the looks of it. The wound needs to be cleaned, and I’d be surprised if you cleaned the bandages recently.”

“You always talk like a damn princess?” Zabuza asks. 

Mikoto digs her medical kit out her backpack and replies, “No, I speak how I was raised to speak, but not like a princess. A princess probably would never speak to the likes of you.”

Zabuza slams his sword down next to the bed as he makes himself comfortable. He’s either indifferent or unaware of Sasuke’s growing disdain as he kicks off his boots and stretches out like a cat in the sun. Haku sits next to Sasuke and doesn’t protest at all when Sasuke helps him put a new bandage on his cheek. The work doesn’t stop Sasuke from trying to glare holes into Zabuza’s head. 

Zabuza says, “You’re harsh, princess.”

Mikoto had learned some about mystical palm techniques. Fugaku had been adamant about learning it. He’d been the medic for his genin team, and showed her the things he’d learned after they were married. Mikoto has decent chakra control, but she still thinks of herself more as a cut-em-up type than a healer. 

Zabuza whines and snaps at her throughout cleaning and changing the bandages on his side. His ankle is sprained, but he tells her it feels better when her hands, glowing green with chakra, rest on the bone. She replaces all of his bandages with the exception of the one’s on his face. When Mikoto tries reaching for them he growls and tells her to fuck off. Perhaps he is like Hatake Kakashi in that sense. She only shrugs and went back to her work. A few creams and a couple pills have Zabuza’s complaints tapering off while Haku shows Sasuke a hand game. When Mikoto asks Zabuza if there’s any other major injuries, his eyes glimmer with mischief as he points at his crotch. 

Mikoto rolls her eyes and tosses the discarded bandages at the area. 

“Now that I know who you are, Momochi, I can certainly say you are too young for me.” 

Zabuza scoffs, but doesn’t press her for her age. He lays back and supports his head with his hands, glancing at the children playing. 

He says. “Look, I don’t know what made you dump your village, but Kiri ain’t good either. They’ll eat your brat for breakfast. It’s gone to shit and the Mizukage is nuts. I tried to take it back and got my ass whooped for my trouble. I had to lead them in circles for weeks before I got those damn Hunter-nin off my ass and things are still looking like shit for us. If you got bloodlines, Kiri will devour you. If you’re running from something, it ends the same—in blood. Do something else. Find a nice shop and ask them to hire you or something. Fuck, start doctoring and charge real good. I don’t care. Just know you’ll never find any work with mercenaries with a babe on your tit.”

Mikoto pointedly looks at Haku, “So you _ say _.”

Zabuza states, “He’s a tool, nothing more.”

Haku has impeccable timing as the tool, the fearsome weapon, giggles and claps when Sasuke shows him a trick he learned with his mind game. 

“Tools don’t usually clings to their wielder’s legs.”

Zabuza gestures to his sword. “Ya see that. I’m one of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist, princess.”

Mikoto sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. “Is that supposed to impress me?”

Zabuza can’t think of a good reply, so he sprawls out on the bed and grumbles. When Mikoto asks him about any job prospects he might know about, he tells them about one in a village nearby he’d been looking into, but doesn’t think he can. He needs to recover and Haku won’t allow them to move until he does. Mikoto knows he only tells them after he peers down her shirt, but tries to keep in mind he’s just a brat. Zabuza is known as the Demon of the Hidden Mist, but he’s also a lecherous brat about Hatake Kakashi’s age. No one was probably around long to properly raise any boy that takes the moniker of Demon. 

Kirigakure is out, but that doesn’t mean Mikoto is giving up. 

The little town Zabuza points them towards is semi-popular as the docks are fuller than any other. The town is doing better than others they’d seen, but Mikoto assumes it’s to the amount of yakuza she sees roaming the area. She keeps a firm grasp on Sasuke’s hand until they get to a small cafe. Before, they can order a flash of small hands and white hair snatch Sasuke’s backpack and rush off into the streets. 

Sasuke’s eyes start to fill with tears, and she can’t have that. 

Mikoto pulls Sasuke along with her as she gives chase. Keeping an eye on the dot of white zig zagging through the throngs of people. When she makes a grab at the child, their shoulder slickens with a watery substance. Her hand slips off, but when the kid turns into an alleyway her longer legs help her. She lunges forward and wraps her arms around the kid. He shrieks and swears, but she doesn't let go. She lifts him up by his arm as Sasuke peers out from behind her to investigate. 

A little boy, about Sasuke’s age, with white hair and purple eyes demands to be let go. He opens his mouth and bares teeth sharpened to a point. Sasuke snatches his backpack out of the boy’s hand and holds it to his chest. The boy yells. “Hey, that’s mine! I stole it fair and square!”

“It’s mine!” Sasuke huffs, “ It was mine first!”

The boy’s mouth spreads into a wicked grin. “Who cares. Finders keepers. Ya wanna fight for it?”

Mikoto hushes them both. “No fighting. No stealing. That was my son’s backpack and it’s quite important. Now, who are you, young man? Do you have any parents I can bring you to?”

The boy makes a face at her like it’s the most stupid question he’s heard all day.

“I don't got any parents and the name’s Hozuki Suigetsu!”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kishimoto's timelines are usually pretty messed up. Where are we in time who knows? Still, Most data stuff has Zabuza at a year younger than Kakashi. So, here he's a literal teenager and I just think that's hilarious. Local teen attempt coup---it does not go well.


	7. Survivor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Children do not survive bloodline purges without scars.

Sasuke watches with barely hidden disgust as Hozuki Suigetsu shovels food into his mouth. He slurps his soup, chugs the tea, and belches without a care. He doesn’t even thank Mikoto for buying them all lunch. Hiding her laughter behind a napkin, Mikoto eats her own grilled tuna much more sedately. Sasuke hasn’t even touched his miso he’s so transfixed on the chaos in front of him. Suigetsu eyes Sasuke suspiciously as he keeps one arm wrapped protectively around his food, but he still tries sneaking food off Sasuke’s plate. Sasuke can’t even bring himself to care, too awestruck by the boy’s audacity. 

The little Hozuki boy may be Kiri-born, but Mikoto can see Kushina with empty bowls of ramen piled in front of her in Suigetsu’s blatant disregard of manners. The boy shoves and mocks Sasuke when he starts to whine, and he’s as crude as they come. Kushina did the same to Mikoto when she scolded her, although usually distracting her with a kiss or a joke. Sasuke’s frown only deepens, looking so much like his father, the longer he watches Suigetsu. He only pauses his judgement to whisper questions about swear words Suigetsu uses to Mikoto. She promises to tell him what they mean once he’s older. He’d had enough questions after their encounter with Momochi Zabuza. 

Suigetsu’s protectiveness over his food worries her. She tries to assure him that they won’t take it from him and if he’d like more, he can have more, but he rolls his eyes every time she says it. It isn’t hard to guess the boy starved, many more children just like him are probably still starving, with the controlled ports. Trying to assure someone there will be another meal to come isn’t something Mikoto is unfamiliar with. After the war, Fugaku had always kept snacks on him. Mikoto asked him about it once. He said he didn’t like the feeling of being hungry anymore. Hands twiddling as he refused to meet her eye, Fugaku told her he just didn’t like the feeling. He’d always eat every meal she made, down to the last piece of rice. 

She remembers when the medics brought him home: one leg horribly broken, a hairline fracture in his skull, with cheeks so thin she had almost not recognized him at first. Fugaku tried distributing rations throughout the troops under his command fairly, but there was never enough. Shipments never seemed to come often enough. There wasn’t enough to distribute for everyone to get a hearty fill. They were all hungry. As one of the commanding officers, Fugaku worried for the youngest among them most. A forehead protector is said to be a mark of an adult, but they had children fighting in the war. They’d cry from the pain in their stomachs more than any fear of enemy shinobi.  _ They were all so hungry.  _

“Hey, are you gonna eat that?” Suigetsu reaches over the table for Sasuke’s onigiri, but Sasuke huffs and moves his plate away from Suigetsu’s sneaky hands. 

“Yes, I am! It’s mine. You didn’t even say thank you for the food you got. You can’t just take mine!”

Suigetsu shrugs. He scratches the shell of his ear and turns to Mikoto. “Thanks for the grub, lady. I don’t got any money to pay you.”

Mikoto smiles in a way she hopes is disarming, but Suigetsu’s lip curls so maybe not. 

“It’s no trouble. The meal is on me.”

Suigetsu looks her over with narrowed eyes. Mikoto doesn’t know what he’s looking for, but his fingers clench around his chopsticks like he intends to make a weapon out of them should he need to. 

“You some sort of perv or something? I’ll kill ya if you are cause I don’t let nobody mess with me! I’ve killed people already ya know! I’m not scared of anything!”

All the children running free in the streets of Water Country. How many are orphans? How many are vulnerable to the worst of the worst? Slavers, pirates, human traffickers all tend to dock their ships around the island nations either without shinobi villages to interfere or one’s in disarray. Zabuza’s little companion had shown Sasuke a trick with ice. He has to be a purge survivor. Even if Momochi Zabuza calls him a tool, Mikoto figures his fate is better than what could have been. There are so many other children, alone, who probably endure worse. 

Sasuke bristles at Suigetsu’s implication. Even if he doesn't fully understand it, he knows that a perv isn’t something good. Mikoto pats his head before he can start a fight. She doesn’t want to scare Suigetsu, so she slides him her rice and tries to talk him down. 

“No, no, I don’t mean any harm at all. Well, I wanted my son’s backpack returned but that’s water under the bridge now. You just seemed like you needed a good meal and its worrisome to see a child all alone.”

Suigetsu snorts but still takes the rice. “You got your own brat to worry about. You don’t need to worry about me.” He grins with a mouthful of rice that has Sasuke’s frown deepening. “I can take care of myself!”

“I can assure you I have no relation to Kiri,” Mikoto says. “I can worry for myself and my son, but what kind of person would I be if I just left a child such as you alone to fend for himself?”

“A smart one,” Suigetsu grumbles. 

Sasuke retorts, “my mama’s very smart!”

“If that’s true guess those brains didn’t pass to kids did they?”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Mean’s your a dumbass, shrimp!”

Mikoto hushes them both. “Now, now, enough of that. Suigetsu, I just thought if you planned on going anywhere, further away from Kiri, you’d be welcome to travel with us.”

Suigetsu slumps into his chair. He doesn’t look like he believes her words, but he still bites his lip in consideration anyway. He mutters. “I don’t need anybody…”

Sasuke grumbles under his breath. “We don’t need him around, Mama.”

As the two boys glare at one another, Mikoto knows there’s only one way to defuse the situation. She claps her hands and grins. “Who wants dessert?”

Sasuke refuses any sweets, as expected, but Suigetsu digs into a slice of cake with vigour. Mikoto runs her hands through Sasuke’s hair as he pouts in his chair. His cheeks, still plump with baby fat, puff up like a chipmunk as he tries to scrunch his mouth into a stern frown. He doesn’t even try batting her hands away in his dramatic outrage. Suigetsu only spares Sasuke a glance and a silly face for all his theatrics before his full attention is on his cake. 

Her little Sasuke is jealous. 

Another boy is around his mother, and has her attention that isn’t on him. Mikoto can almost hear him muttering “my mama, my mama!” under his breath, but perhaps its her imagination. Sasuke never had to compete for her attention before. His brother was so independent he hadn’t really wanted mothering. His father had been busy and often gone. Mikoto treasured whatever attention she could get from them, and often thought poor Sasuke was like a baby bird searching for crumbs when it came to those two. She showered him with her time instead, even if he didn’t like her smothering at times. After everyone was gone, Sasuke had only his mother to turn to. Mikoto understands why Sasuke would be protective, but it’s still funny seeing him bristle like an insulted cat at the idea of another little boy daring to breathe the same air as his mother. 

Mikoto whispers to Sasuke. “Come on, now. It won’t be that bad having him with us. He’s just a little boy. You can have a playmate! Won’t that be fun?”

Sasuke scoffs. “No! He’s a ruffian look that him, Mama!”

Mikoto looks. Suigetsu isn’t even bearing them any mind as he slides Mikoto’s slice of cake towards himself and promptly digs in. 

“Where did you even learn that word? Ruffian of all things!”

“It fits!”

Mikoto sighs. “But would you try and be his friend?”

Sasuke grumbles and crosses his arms. Mikoto can barely catch what he’s muttering so quietly, but one sentence rings clearly. “He reminds me of Naruto…”

Both of them are startled by the laugh at sneaks out of Mikoto’s mouth. Once she gets going, she can’t stop. Even Suigetsu looks up, his mouth smeared with frosting, to stare at her in confusion. Mikoto tries to put a damper on her amusement when she notices the dark cloud forming over Sasuke’s head. With a few last chuckles as she wipes her eyes before trying to comfort her son. “I’m not laughing at you, Sweetie. I just remembered when you used to come into the house stomping and complaining about Uzumaki Naruto. You’d be all ruffled and sometimes your shirts torn if you had to spar with him.”

“He’d bite!”

“Naruto was a very rowdy boy,” Mikoto says. “I’m sure if given the chance you could’ve been friends with him, so won’t you try with Suigetsu?”

Naruto being friends with Sasuke had been Mikoto’s wish she’d never gotten to see, but Kushina still would’ve gotten a kick out of their rival-esque relationship and childish brawls. 

“He’s even worse than Naruto!” Sasuke argues. “Naruto never stole things from me and Suigetsu smells funny.”

Mikoto pinches his cheek. “We discussed the stealing and you shouldn’t comment on people’s smells. I really want you to get along. Can you do that for your mama?”

“I guess…”

Suigetsu finishes the last of the cake by licking his fingers clean.

“Thanks for the food, Lady, but I should get going. It’s nice and all, you offering to let me travel with you guys, but I’m good on my own. Once I get a sword, I’ll be real tough and no one will mess with me. I’m okay, really!”

Mikoto asks, “Do you have any family at all we can take you too?”

Suigetsu’s face falls. Mikoto knew before she asked him the question the answer probably wouldn’t be positive, but still felt it needed to be asked. If there is even a small chance there’s some estranged uncle or distant cousin so the boy won’t be alone, Mikoto wants to make sure. She assumes he’s an orphan, no parents to speak of, but by the faraway look in Suigetsu’s eyes Mikoto thinks he’s probably as alone as they are.

“My big brother took care of me, and everyone else...I don’t know everyone was either running or dying after a while. My brother’s gone now too.”

Mikoto doesn’t even get the chance to comfort him. She goes to put her hand on his, but before she can he gets up and shoots off into the streets.

“Suigetsu! Suigetsu, wait!”

Sasuke says. “Mama, he runs too fast. He wants to be on his own.”

“Imagine if you were in his place. It’s dangerous for him to be alone and the one person he had is gone. You’d probably not want anyone to bother you too, but I can’t in good conscious just let that boy run off.”

“Good conscious is gonna get us into trouble one of these days.” Sasuke replies. 

Mikoto lifts up Sasuke and runs in the direction Suigetsu rushed off towards. 

She can’t leave a bloodline child, who managed to survive the purges, alone. Who knows what kind of people might hurt a boy like that? The poor child has no one else to turn too, and Mikoto can’t help but wonder if Sasuke were in his place. He’d surely be a harsher boy if he were completely alone. Unlike Sasuke, Suigetsu has no mother to hold his hand. 

There are some docks that aren’t as busy as the main traffic areas. Mikoto keeps a close eye on any suspicious boats or well dressed men, but the dock area Suigetsu leads them too is more dingy and trash-ridden than others. Weeds and broken glass have Mikoto keeping Sasuke close to her side no matter how much he tries to wiggle out of her grasp. They both wrinkle their noses at the unfamiliar salty air and the smell of seaweed, but they find Suigetsu. He’s crouched in the sand with a rusted hammer and what Mikoto assumes is a raft. Pieces of driftwood, stolen parts of other ships, and ripped fabrics: it’s a dinky little raft made up of a modge podge of parts. 

“Sasuke, sweetie, I think it’s best if I talk to Suigetsu alone for a moment. Why don’t you go find a couple seashells for me?”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, and Mikoto purses her lips. She can already see a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. 

“If you go near those discarded fireworks you will be in big trouble,” Mikoto warns, “ I said sea shells and I mean sea shells. Mr. If you even think there might be a needle or a snake or anything dangerous you come back here.”

“I’m not a baby.” Sasuke argues. 

Sasuke’s stomping away probably irritates any number of critters hiding in the sand, but Mikoto still takes a careful seat next to Suigetsu in the dirt. He doesn’t even look up at her, too preoccupied with patching a hole in his raft. He swipes aggressively at his dripping nose and his hands shake with each messy stitch. 

Mikoto asks. “You planning to sail somewhere? Where are you headed?”

Suigetsu shrugs and throws down his raft when a the fabric tears crooked. He immediately regrets it as he scours the ground for his discarded needle. “Anywhere if I can get this stupid thing fixed.”

Gingerly turning Suigetsu’s face towards her, Mikoto can see tear streaks dried on his cheeks. He glares at her with a furrow in his brow, one sharp little tooth poking out from under his top lip. 

“Suigetsu, tell me what’s wrong?”

Suigetsu snarls and smacks her hand away. He turns back to his work, but his hands don’t move. His back bowed as he watches Sasuke scavenging in the coming tide for shells. Mikoto waits patiently. Some things hurt more said aloud, so she lets him take his time. 

“My big brother…” he begins, “Mangetsu—we both wanted to be real cool swordsman, like the Seven Swordmen of the Hidden Mist, and he did it! But things got bad. People started going missing, and everyone was on edge. I didn’t really know what it was about. Mangetsu used to let me do whatever I wanted, but after awhile he wouldn’t let out of the apartment without him there. He was telling me we didn’t need dumb old Kiri. He said we could run away and be pirates and sail together. Like like ya know the Uzumaki and their huuuge ships in those old stories, right. But...he died.”

Suigetsu tosses his handmade raft into the weeds and tucks his knees to his chest.

“He had a plan, ya see. To get out of Kiri, but we couldn’t even do it cause there was some riot and he died. He was telling me if I followed him when he said to stay put he’d beat me bloody.” His shoulders shake as he tries to hold back his tears. “He didn’t come back. But I went looking and I saw him...Hozuki bodies are pretty recognizable cause we sorta melt after we die. He was in a pile with a lot of other people, and no one was watching me so I ran for it. I didn’t know where else to go. I don’t got nobody else. Mangetsu said to get outta there, so I did and he said we’d go together but he died.” Suigetsu rubs harshly at his eyes. “I’m gonna sail far away and no one can ever hurt me there. Mangetsu’s stupid and I don’t need anybody.”

Mikoto rests her hand on his damp head. She considers pulling him into a hug, but he’d only fight it. Seagulls cry out from above as they circle the beach. Sasuke sits in the sand not far from them, poking a hermit crab with a stick. Suigetsu might claim he doesn’t need anybody, but they all do. Mikoto doesn’t know what she would have done had she been left alive without her son. Being alone is horrible when it’s forced upon someone. 

“I know...it hurts doesn’t it? 

Suigetsu wiggles away from her and jumps up. He kicks sand at her, but Mikoto remains unbothered. His anger is familiar enough. He’s allowed to be angry. 

“Shut up!” He yells, “you don’t get it! You’re not alone!”

“Maybe not.” She concedes. “I do have my son, but don’t think I don’t understand. I lost two brothers and a sister. My eldest brother and his wife, my older sister and her husband, and all their children. They’re all dead. My younger brother and I had big plans of adventure when we were kids, just like you and your brother. He was against my husband from the start because he didn’t think any man could be good enough for me. Naozumi could marry. Akimomo could marry. But Masato raised the biggest fuss when my parents proposed a betrothal for me.” She chuckles softly, “He never married. He always said he liked a free and easy life, but now he’s gone. Everyone I have loved and known is gone, except for my son, and I will still have to fight for his right to live.”

Suigetsu slumps onto the ground with a huff. He rubs at his eyes in a vain effort to keep the tears at bay, but Mikoto sees him losing the battle as his lips tremble.

“Mangetsu is dead and I don’t got anyone anymore and I’m probably gonna get picked up by some weirdo who wants to dissect me or something.” Suigetsu holds out a hand and it liquifies when he smashes it against the ground. It quickly reforms leaving only a dampness to Suigetsu’s skin as a reminder.

Mikoto activates her sharingan. The corners of her eyes tingle from disuse. Suigetsu gasps but doesn’t run away. Instead, he inches closer to her and lets Mikoto hold him against her chest. Mikoto rubs his back to soothe the soft whimpers he refuses to turn into sobs. He wants to be strong, and to manage it on his own. But he’s just a boy, a lonely scared little boy. Suigetsu’s abilities marks him to a life of danger just like them. Kirigakure would kill him if he dared to return to the place he called home, and Konoha holds nothing for the Uchiha anymore.

“Come with us. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Suigetsu rests his cheek on his shoulder. He doesn’t say yes or no, but when Mikoto calls Sasuke over he takes the sand dollar Sasuke offers him. The boys stick their tongues out at one another when they think she isn’t looking, but they’ll be alright.


	8. Marching On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suigetsu will never be a nobleman's son, but Mikoto will do what she can to keep both boys safe.

They never stay in one place for long. 

An itch to keep moving overtakes her everytime Mikoto thinks she should let the boys get settled, but once people start to recognize them with friendly smiles and neighborly waves it always seems like a good time to leave. She knows no one is on her tail. She continuously checks, but she doesn’t want to accidentally bring traffickers or shinobi to the door of anyone who helps her. The old allies of the Uchiha are not fighters. They are old men with suspicious eyes, sympathetic women with babies clutching their skirts, the injured and the surviving. 

Not many want to hear whispers of vengeance; the war beast of Konoha; so massive in its strength it frightens even the staunchest supporters. They’ll offer food, shelter, and a kind word, but Mikoto looks elsewhere for possible swords. She kisses Suigetsu and Sasuke’s foreheads before sneaking out at night. There are many shinobi in the world, angry and hurt, but directionless in their rage. They fear as much as any civilian, but their eyes gleam with bloodlust when Mikoto voices her desire to see Konoha fall. There are many who seek revenge against the Leaf Village just like her. They too lick at old wounds. Mikoto still keeps Momochi Zabuza’s warnings in mind. She’s careful. She gives nothing more than words, but knows more still needs to be done. The children don’t need to concern themselves with such things. They do not need to go to the places she does. 

She never stops keeping an ear to the ground for any information on her eldest son. Even if she doesn’t know what she’ll do with him, her heart stutters every time she sees his name in an updated bingo book. Not many speak of him though, whether out of fear or lack of information she doesn’t know. 

Nothing comes to light about her son, but Mikoto learns of another Uchiha who had survived the initial massacre. 

He’s dead now, but _ that night _ he still lived. 

Uchiha Raijin: only brother to the Clan Head, Lady Uchiha Torabana. 

Fugaku’s Uncle had been imprisoned in Hōzuki Castle after the destruction of Uzushiogakure. Mikoto only vaguely remembers him. Stalwart and more pleasant than his sister, the Uchiha spare of the generation prior had been content to simply support his sister in her headship. He was loyal above all else. When Uchiha Torabana had been accused of disobeying orders, her brother claimed fault. He took all the blame. In truth, the Lady Uchiha had disobeyed orders. She’d sent Uchiha, under her orders, to Uzushiogakure rather than the frontlines of Kumo. She directly disobeyed Konoha’s orders, but Raijin would not allow the clan to be without a head in a time of war. Torabana managed to sneak out of any talk of execution, but Uncle Raijin was still sent to Hōzuki Castle. He would remain there for the rest of his days. 

Fugaku had sent him letters. He told his uncle about his wedding, the death of his mother, and the birth of each of his sons. 

When Mikoto hears Uncle Raijin’s name coming from the mouth of a small-time thief, she doesn’t even think before putting a sword to his throat. The young thief sputters and begs, but when she asks for his tale the words come tumbling from his lips. 

Uchiha Raijin had been a prisoner of Hōzuki Castle. 

Uchiha Raijin heard the news of the Uchiha massacre and escaped. He got close to Konoha’s borders before he was dragged back to the Blood Prison. 

They took one eye. 

He waited, bided his time, and then during a storm he escaped again. 

Recaptured, they took the other eye. 

The thief wonders out loud to himself why they burned his eyes. That’s the story he heard at least. Mikoto’s breath catches when she hears it, but can’t believe it either. Why would they cripple him at every escape, only to throw away his valuable eyes, to give them the honor of a burning? An Uchiha’s eyes were priceless if a transplant were successful, any man would sell his weight in gold for even the chance to buy them. 

The thief says Uchiha Raijin, completely blind, managed to escape once again. 

He didn’t make it far. 

He was captured, and promptly executed. 

They burned his body too. 

Mikoto considers telling Sasuke what she’s learned, but doesn’t know what good it will do. Sasuke had never met his Great Uncle Raijin. It would only bring him more pain to know what they’d lost. Mikoto simply adds Raijin’s name to the long list she tries to recite when she prays in mourning. There isn’t more to be done. A stray thought lingers of any other Uchiha, any other survivors, but the thought itself tastes bitter. 

False hope will get her nowhere. 

Traveling keeps those thoughts from her mind and her hands from idleness. Every phoenix and dragon carving above a door is a sigh of relief, and any distance from Konoha lessens the tension in her spine. 

She never regrets Suigetsu’s addition to their motley crew. He’s a boy with energy in spades. Whenever Sasuke falls into melancholy and Mikoto finds her head too heavy, Suigetsu is there to grab their attention. He gripes until they sightsee and badgering them into visiting tourist spots. Sasuke whines about Suigestu being childish, but Mikoto always catches his quick smiles when they watch puppet shows or a magician’s tricks. Her son can put on airs all he likes, but she is sure he enjoys Suigetsu’s companionship. Mikoto knows she will always treasure the time Suigetsu dragged them to see a traveling troupe of entertainers. Her heart dropped to her stomach when she heard a familiar tune her sister used to sing. But the performers didn’t know an Uchiha watched their show. 

They wrapped white cloth around their eyes, and danced to an Uchiha folk song, none the wiser the prior Lady Uchiha watched them. She later whispered about it to the boys. Sasuke had been insulted at first, but Mikoto soothed his furious heart. Their arts could live on so long as someone, anyone, remembered them. Fugaku had loved telling others about the Uchiha’s culture and arts. Everyone loved hearing the stories of battle and their art in war, and that could certainly be remembered, but sometimes they wished their softer pursuits would be recognized too. 

As time passed, some of the softness melts from the boys cheeks. Mikoto tries not to think too hard on it. Traveling can become cumbersome and wearing, no matter the circumstance, is what she tells herself. The thought of her sweet Sasuke being a baby no longer is one she doesn’t want to heed. 

Sasuke thinks their travel is a matter of safety, and does his best to act as her guard. Suigetsu thinks traveling is a great adventure and good fun with the sole exception of his lessons. Mikoto plans to make a well-mannered child fit for society out of him, or she’ll die trying. 

Maybe he intends for her to die. 

Sasuke lords his knowledge and skill in the noble pursuits over Suigetsu, and Suigetsu retaliates with violence. He still tries hard, but Mikoto sometimes wonders if taming the boy is an impossible task. He’s belligerent and never minds his manners at dinner, but she can’t fault him for it. Still, there can only be so many broken tea cups, torn shoji screens, and times Sasuke is tackled before Mikoto starts to truly doubt her goal. 

The boy can’t even sit seiza that long. 

Suigetsu fidgets and rubs at his numb thighs. “I’m bored! Come on, Lady, can’t we go play now.” 

Sasuke huffs. “What do you mean we?” 

“Aren’t your legs sore? I feel like I’m about to fall over!” 

Suigetsu’s sloppy seiza tetters as he wiggles his feet under his body. Sasuke is smug in his superiority until Mikoto notes the points in his posture that are either too stiff or too loose. 

Mikoto leisurely sips her tea. “You cannot leave your seat until your host, that is me at the moment, has finished. You do not stand until I do, and ranking still dictates who stands first. There are many rules when engaging with the upper classes, but you should always treat everyone you meet decently but propriety dictates many things. You do not eat until the host does. You do not finish your tea until the host does. You cannot eat too much and appear gluttonous, but to eat too little would make you appear unsatisfied with your meal.”

Suigetsu lets himself topple over, cheek pressed against the tatami, as he groans like a wounded animal. 

“I can only sit seiza for a couple minutes! Can’t I sit anza instead?”

Mikoto sets down her teacup and rises. Sasuke follows, but doesn’t stand anywhere near as gracefully. 

“No, you may not. Don’t think I will stand for you sitting with your knees to your chest either. You must sit like a proper little gentleman.”

As she watches Suigetsu wiggle on the floor mumbling swears, Mikoto wonders how she’ll ever bring the boy to any place of higher prestige than a bar. Glancing at her own son, as he tries to force down a smirk, she still has doubts about presenting Sasuke to anyone of nobility. Her son is a quick learner and eager to please her as he tries his hardest learning the skills of a well mannered child, but Mikoto doubts his skills of diplomacy. She doubts her own, and Sasuke takes more after her than his father. He’s stubborn to a fault, unwilling to compromise, and strongly opinionated. It will take time for him to gain the patience needed to endure empty flattery and give it just as easily. Mikoto had to endure learning those hard lessons at her mother’s knee, and as much as she despised them, her own son would do the same. 

She wants them both to grow, and be strong, so they can one day lead happy lives of their own. Whatever tools might provide that, she will give them. Suigetsu will stay awake during the history lessons eventually, and one day Sasuke will actually desire to watch his words. She looks forward to the day they will be strapping young men, but for now she holds their softness and childishness close to her heart. When she puts them to bed for the night, Sasuke still holds his teddy bear under his arm, and Suigetsu grins when she tucks the covers under his chin. 

“Would you like to hear a story?” 

Suigetsu starts to protest, before he sees Sasuke rapidly nod. 

“I guess one won’t hurt.” 

Mikoto smiles. “ I think maybe you should hear _ this _ story. It’s a bit of a sad one. It’s about an Uchiha who had been a king!” 

Sasuke whispers reverently. “A king?” 

“Oh, yes. There had been an Uchiha clan head who was a king. You know how there is a Fire Daimyo? Well, there had once been a king! We Uchiha have long called the Land of Fire our home. Our ancestors lived and died here for centuries! Let me tell you the tale of this king, and while his name had been lost to time, his story still lives on...”

Suigetsu bounces on his futon. “Quit with the drama and tell the story! I wanna know what happens to this king guy.”

Sasuke tosses his stuffed animal at him. 

Suigetsu threatens to rip it’s head off. 

Mikoto puts herself between them, grabbing the wayward plush before any damage is wrought, and returns it to Sasuke. She flicks them both. 

“Now, now let me tell the story.Where was I...Oh, yes—You see, the Uchiha king was a very genial king. He was adored by the people in the Land of Fire and the Uchiha clan prospered greatly under his leadership. We were mighty and proud then. The King’s Wife, his Queen, was just and strong. They were a good balanced match. They had two children together, the Princes, two twin boys that were the light of the clan. They were twin boys with unmatched beauty and smiles were so bright they burned. They were the pride and joy of their parents, and brought goodwill to all whom they met. With honor in spades and voices like songbirds, the king was not troubled to find matches for his sons.”

Suigetsu wrinkles his nose. “Come on! I thought you said this was a sad story. It just seems like a girly fairytale to me.”

“Oh, it is a very sad story. I was just getting to that.”

Sasuke says. “I don’t wanna hear, Mama. Something bad’s gonna happen to the King and his family, isn’t it?”

Mikoto tucks him in tighter and kisses his cheek. “No, sweetie, I’ll tell the story. It is a very important one, and I want you to think about it when I am done.”

She kisses Suigetsu’s cheek to make things fair as both boys fall quiet. She takes a breath before continuing. 

“”The Uchiha King was not without enemies. The Uchiha have always had many threats against us, for our eyes are coveted and our name renowned. We stand against those who chose to fight us with every fiber of our beings. We Uchiha love deeply, our love is absolute, and so it had always been a common tactic for that love to be used against us. They say if you wish to win the heart of the princess, you must first win the heart of the queen. The same rules apply in tackling a stronger opponent. They say to strike at Uchiha where it hurts most: their most precious loved ones. Children always make the best targets. Some say it’s a horrible thing for a parent to outlive their child. We Uchiha are well versed in loss, but it never gets easier. The Uchiha king was not a man to be trifled with, and yet one group of his enemies decided to go for his heart.”

Sasuke quietly worms out from under his covers, and rests against his mother’s side. Mikoto lets him, and runs her fingers through his hair. 

Suigetsu whispers. “They killed his sons, didn’t they?”

Mikoto shakes her head sadly. “If only. The twin princes, lovely and kind, were captured and tortured in the most gruesome ways. The King searched and searched, but could not find his sons. Missives were sent, rewards were offered, but there was no trace left. The Queen begged and sobbed in prayer, but to no avail. The King was despondent as his sorrow grew with each passing day. Yet, it was even more horrific when the Twins were finally returned.”

Whenever her Father told the story, it never failed to make a young Fugaku cry, hiding his tears behind his hands, when he got to the discovery of the Twins. 

“In the dark of night, the beloved Twins had been dropped on the steps of the Uchiha’s home. Skin and bones, naked with only blood for covering, they were wretched now. The poor creatures could scarcely be recognized as the prized sons. But their mother and father knew it was them. They say when the Twins were found, the country wept. The Queen dropped to her knees and cradled their heads in her lap. They were both dead and tossed out like garbage. She clung to her poor dead sons and swore vengeance against their murderers. The King...he was silent for a moment. It is said the scream that tore from his throat still echoes throughout the Land of Fire on particularly cold nights. A scream that tears into your soul it was. In his grief, the King threw himself from the highest tower of their home. His crumbled body so much resembled his own sons, the clan could not bear the sight. The Queen was left alone and everything burned in her path as she scavaged village after village for the perpetrators. The country cried, and cried for the King, Queen, and Twin Princes were no more.” 

Suigetsu wipes his dripping nose with the back of his pajama sleeve as he complains. 

“That’s fucking sad! Why’d you tell us that, huh?”

Mikoto pulls him into her lap next to Sasuke. “It is an important story. I will not tell you the meaning, you must figure that on your own.”

Sasuke is silent as he lays his head against her leg. He hesitates for a moment before asking, “Mama, if we died...what would you do?”

Mikoto’s freezes. Sasuke isn’t sure what to make of the look in his mother’s eyes. It’s unfamiliar to him, but it passes quickly and her usual warmth returns. 

“You two need your rest. We have an important meeting coming up, and we need to get in all the practice we can so you can be on your best behavior.”

Suigetsu crawls back into his futon. “Yeah, yeah, we promise to be good.”

Sasuke allows his mother to coax him back under his covers, but he still sees the tightness in each movement. He presses his forehead to her own before she leans away, and says nothing else but a quick goodnight. 

Suigetsu’s call of goodnight follows her out of the room as Mikoto closes the door with shaking hands. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've finished outlining this story! I think this one might actually turn out quite a bit longer than my other Naruto works, based on the outline, but we'll see. Thought of starting a Sarada work that rewrites Boruto (as I thought working on two works at once would help my writing process) but I think I need to think more on the plot for that. For this fic, I know for sure where I'm going now, with some things to be still worked out a bit, but overall all good.


	9. Nobility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a simplicity among thieves and hired swords. It makes Mikoto wonder if she truly should have taken Zabuza's advice.

The Uchiha had been forbidden from joining the daimyo's court, by order of the Leaf, due to perceived interference with their duties as military police. Mikoto remembers her mother raising question after question to the Hokage of their abilities and status in the village. With every new law and rule, Uchiha Otohime went to the Hokage with her concerns. She wanted to know how every way possible the village’s rules would affect their clan. 

It was all the same. The military police is a neutral power. To be neutral, they said, requires sacrifice. 

Being banned from court in the capital in the Land of Fire didn’t mean they wouldn’t try sneaking into others, but the risks were often too great. Her mother’s collection of jewelry and fine bamboo uchiwa went into storage. Mikoto put away etiquette books for forensics. She’d never truly cared much for the lady-like pursuits, but knew it pleased her mother. 

Now, as she ties up her hair with a delicate hairpin she imagines her mother helping pick out her earrings. She would’ve compared the colors to her skin to see what stood out. Fugaku would’ve helped her tie her kimono with slow steady hands, but now she does quickly it herself. Sasuke and Suigetsu both need a bit of help with their knots. 

She is a lady with no court to hold, and no home to keep, but she will try to make do with what she has. 

A contact had managed to arrange a meeting with a young noble lord, and they can’t let such an opportunity pass them by. Getting in the good graces of lordlings and the upper echelon is never a bad thing if done correctly. The protection of anonymity and the protection of status are on two ends of the spectrum, but both have their advantages. Seeking out hired swords is all well and good, but it’s useless without money willing to back it. Mikoto’s hand sweeps a quick brush of red across her lip. Sasuke fiddles with the rouge until he almost drops it. 

Many nobility don’t often want to converse with shinobi. It’s understandable. Shinobi frighten them. They are the shadows behind curtains and echoes of feet on rooftops. The fear of a shinobi assasination is probably drilled into every one of their sons: make the wrong person angry and a shinobi might come for you. Mikoto knows. She’d been one of those shadows looking for sons to take. 

Mikoto tucks senbon in the folds of her kimono and looks at her face in the mirror. A painted up face and intricate hairdo do not make for a standard shinobi. The strongest may have allowances in dress, but practicality must still be taken into consideration. Some have a _ certain _ image in their mind of what a true shinobi is. There’s a reason Konoha often teaches their kunoichi the art of ikebana among other things. People still expect shinobi to be the muscled man, silent and cold, hiding in the dark. The beautiful woman can still occasionally go unseen. 

Suigetsu stares at her with one of his sharp teeth poking out from his gaping mouth. 

Mikoto smiles, “Is something wrong?”

Suigetsu flushes red like an overripe tomato. He stamps his foot and blurts out. “You look real pretty, Lady!”

He looks pained to have complimented someone. But doesn’t seem to want to take back his words even when Sasuke tries to jab him in the ribs for it. If anything it strengthens his resolve. 

“Thank you, Suigetsu, that’s very sweet of you. Sasuke, no fighting. I don’t want you two getting roughed up.”

Sasuke pouts, but a pinch to the cheek helps loosen the scowl off his face. 

“You must be on your best behavior,” she tells them. "This is important for all of us.”

Mikoto can’t help but laugh at their firm nods. They’re like soldiers ready for battle when it’s just dinner. 

Perhaps just dinner might be understating it a bit. 

The nobleman’s manor is a vast expanse of gardens with immaculately trimmed hedges and trees encircling a behemoth of wood and stone. Curved walls topped with overhanging meant to prevent scaling mean little to any shinobi who can channel their chakra through their feet. Suigetsu eagerly points out a massive pond with butterfly koi fish poking their heads above the water as feed is dropped to them. 

The official escort meets Mikoto and the boys in the castle town with an ox drawn carriage to take them up to the castle. Mikoto accepts gracefully even as every instinct within her bristles. She’d guarded nobles on such guards back when she was active duty. She can’t think of herself as a shinobi who walks alongside such nonsense with her nose in the air. She is not the guard here. She has to tug Sasuke back before he can bother the ox, but when they reach the castle she sees the determination settle in Sasuke’s brow. He keeps his back as straight as an arrow, chin level, as he walks at her side. Suigetsu tries his hardest to copy, even as his eyes dart to and fro to take in everything from the shooting holes for arrows to the intricately painted fusuma. 

The opulence rubs at her, even as she tries to ignore it. All of their own kimonos are borrowed, and Mikoto tries to not let it bother her when she sees the Yamagiwa dressed in their finest with gold pieces and pearls in the hair of the wife and daughters. The fine woods and silks of the castle speak of a wealth Mikoto will probably never achieve for Sasuke and Suigetsu. They’re all in unfamiliar territory. Sasuke hides his discomfort behind a tight posture, but Suigetsu struggles to keep his back straight. He tries to bend and hide his face without even realizing it. Forgetting luxury, there’s a certain shame in not having enough. 

Fugaku had always tugged at the sleeves of his yukata, worn but well made, when Hiashi eyed it with distaste at meetings. Mikoto had surveyed the cupboards like a mess cook counting rations when she made lunches for her boys. When trade deals had been cut, worries about food and trade routes meant little when it came to her children. Both she and Fugaku made do with less if it meant their sons got enough. They tried their best and held their heads high, but the shame lingers. 

The Uchiha are low now, and they’d been brought low before, but that doesn’t mean they’ll concede to subservience so easily. Mikoto only hopes neither boy feels ashamed. They have no land, perfunctory titles, and a respect that can evaporate like smoke if the wind blows the right way. It makes them less in the eyes of many, but Mikoto won’t let it make them weak. 

People once thought their dance of the sun was evil; not seeing the beauty as fire biting at their heels. Their ash tattooing was banned when a Hyuuga attempted to remove their seal with it. The sprawling ink phoenix on their father’s back had befuddled both their sons. They lost every place in the village until the compound was the only place left. They were the police and it meant nothing. Laws and bannings against them that did little but fuel their rage. Maybe that's what the village wanted: to take, and take and take to bring them to their knees. 

They still refused to be weak until they were finally cut down. 

Mikoto bows enough to be polite to the Yamagiwas, but not low. 

Lord Yamagiwa has a round forgettable face, but the spark of intelligence in his eyes is what made Mikoto decide to approach him. He’s not known for much, no beauty or cunning, and he prefers it that way. He navigates the world of the elite and noble cautiously but still manages to keep his family’s heads above the water. Someone like that isn’t so power hungry they’ll use any means, but neither are they so foolish as to end up a pawn in someone else’s game. Lord Yamagiwa wears his affable air in the same way Fugaku’s father played up his love of women. It’s a good strategy. 

Suigetsu peeks at Sasuke to see how low he should bow when they greet Lord and Lady Yamagiwa. He doesn’t even stumble over his toes. 

“It’s an honor, Lady Uchiha.” Lord Yamagiwa greets her. “ My dear mother never once had a bad word to say about Uchiha Otohime and I’m glad her daughter trusts the Yamagiwa family enough to seek out our aid.”

“The honor is ours.” Mikoto sweeps her arm to present her children. “You grace us with your hospitality in such a beautiful home.”

Lady Yamagiwa takes Mikoto’s hand in her own like they’re old friends. 

Their hands are different. Lady Yamagiwa’s hands are pale with such a delicate softness Mikoto can barely feel their natural creases. They’re the hands her children once had before she placed kunai into them. 

Mikoto’s own hands are supple but dotted with scars, and no number of creams can take away the hard earned calluses. Lady Yamagiwa frowns, not too deep as to mar her face, but Mikoto finds herself hoping the shimmer in her eyes is real. 

“We cannot begin to understand the depth of your grief, Lady Uchiha, but still... I would like to offer our condolences for your great loss.”

Mikoto nods. Forcing her lips to smile, she shoves down the dormant rage at the reminder of all she can longer have. “Thank you. It is difficult but I keep going to the best of my ability for the sake of myself and my son.”

The Yamagiwa daughters, all five of them, whisper to one another behind their fans. Their father doesn’t appear bothered as he picks up on what they are saying. He asks. “I do not mean to be presumptuous, but one of the children in your company...he is not Uchiha is he?”

“No, he is not my blood.” Mikoto replies. “He is Hozuki. We met when I had planned to travel to Kiri and I brought him under my care.”

Lord Yamagiwa exclaims. “A Hozuki! How fascinating!”

Suigetsu mutters profanities under his breath. When Mikoto glances at him, he plasters a grin on his face. One of the Yamagiwa daughters raises a brow at his sharp teeth on full display, but they don’t scream at the very least. 

Dinner is a two front war. Hopefully, Lord and Lady Yamagiwa are unaware of the battle going on at their table. One on end, Mikoto must entertain and show interest in whatever her hosts say. On the other, she despairs whenever Suigetsu wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his kimono or doesn’t put his chopsticks down correctly. Sasuke keeps trying to whisper instructions in his ear, but he gets distracted. The youngest of the Yamagiwa daughters giggle at him from behind their fans. They send him small waves and the bravest try to engage him in conversation.

“Do you play an instrument?”

“What’s your favorite color? Mine’s lavender!” 

“I’m sure you’re wonderful at calligraphy. My tutor tells my father mine is lovely with a very sure hand.” 

“Are you enjoying the mushrooms, Sasuke?” 

The girls had been raised in the lap of luxury. They would probably want for nothing. As Mikoto tastes the expensive beef she imagines chewy horse meat and sansei served with the rice instead. Even as the girls bombard Sasuke with questions, they never become too invasive and all their postures are as straight as if someone tied a ruler to their backs. 

Sasuke grumbles about being addressed so familiarly, but Suigetsu pipes up for him to answer all the girls' questions. 

“I don’t play an instrument and my calligraphy’s not too good, cause I’m still working on my kanji. My favorite color is purple, but like a dark purple, and I don’t like the mushrooms that much they feel funny, but I’ll still eat ‘em” 

Thankfully, the girls are more amused than insulted by Suigetsu’s boldness. 

The second eldest daughter hides a snort behind her fan when Suigetsu boasts of his fighting prowess in Kiri. The youngest Yamagiwa daughters still find themselves drawn back to Sasuke no matter what interesting tales he tells. Her Sasuke is quiet and bewildered by the attention but he has always been popular. Both of her sons were. Her features, sharp chin and wide eyes, soften the severity of Fugaku’s in them both. 

Mikoto chuckles when a stray thought of future alliances crosses her mind. She feels like her mother, matching her children up like a particularly interesting card game; only Masato and Akimomo scurried out from under her mother’s will. While both she and Fugaku hadn’t regretted their match, they’d promised each other to allow their sons to a level of freedom. She finds herself wondering what Kushina might have thought of it. Inquiries were always made, especially as her eldest grew in strength, but they held firm. Mikoto doesn’t even want to think of her baby marrying anyway. 

Marriage is still a question that plagues her. Not for her children, but for herself. 

Lord Yamagiwa always smiles gently at his wife. He isn’t so audacious as to kiss her in public, but he lingers when their hands brush. The corners of his mouth always turn up slightly whenever his eyes fall on his wife and daughters. Fugaku had been similar. The very suggestion of him sweeping her into a kiss in front of anyone would’ve morphed his face into a deep scowl. Mikoto swallows a sigh. Fugaku is gone. The thought of marrying again has crossed her mind, but not for love. She’s loved and lost twice already, and isn’t looking for any more. A political marriage would be more useful in the long run. 

Marriage also implies children. Another child would also be beneficial for Sasuke, for their clan, but the risks outweigh the benefits. A baby is more helpless than Sasuke could ever be, and pregnancy would leave Mikoto vulnerable for months too. What if it put Sasuke in danger? The idea of another Uchiha baby only minutely appeals to her. It’d been a nicer idea when she’d discussed the possibility with Fugaku. Any child she brings into the world would be her own, an Uchiha, but it’s a reminder her time with Fugaku is over. Their talk feels almost decades ago, but it had only happened shortly before the massacre. 

* * *

Mikoto had been the one to bring up the question. 

“What do you think of having another baby?” 

Fugaku stilled for a moment to let the question sink in. He glanced at her from where he lounged like a cat in the sun on their futons, his comforter sneaking onto her’s.“I haven’t really thought about it. I know you wanted to get back onto active duty, so I didn’t think you wanted any more children.” He sat his book down and sat up as he stretched his back with a satisfying pop. “Have you been thinking about it?” 

Mikoto ran her fingers through her hair as she paced. “Itachi is so grown up, and Sasuke is growing older too. I suppose I’ve had thoughts of another baby in the house. A little girl would be nice. I can wait a few more years till I get back on active duty. Missions will always be there. I just...I suppose I’ve gotten to enjoy_ this _ .” What _ this _ was at the time Mikoto hadn’t really known. Mikoto hadn’t known how to describe the peacefulness of her home. She watched Sasuke grow bigger and bigger and felt a wave of sadness overtake her. She’d still practice forms with her swords, but wonder if the daydreams of another small baby with Fugaku’s brown hair made her _ less _ in some way. She loved showing her skill as a shinobi. She loved her children too. 

She’d considered asking Fugaku if he’d ever had such conflicting thoughts and doubts, but decided against it. There had been a gentle boy once who simply loved to read. He took up the responsibilities and hardships left to him by his mother and brother. He was to be strong for the sake of others, but things could have been different if life let him walk a softer path. She knows Fugaku’s doubts plague him still. She’d seen the flash of regret in his eyes when he would turn away from the attention of his youngest son, but he still managed it. 

No one really knows how where their life will ultimately lead, so the paths must be walked as they come. 

“I suppose the correct answer would be to say I’m thinking on the idea.” Mikoto said. “I just wanted to hear your thoughts on it.”

Fugaku nodded and asked her to sit with only a hum and a jerk of his chin. Usually, Mikoto would have brushed him off unless he graced her with his voice, but she decided to allow it. He scooted close to her, hip to hip, and said. “It’s ultimately your decision. I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea, but in the current political climate it’s a bit risky for us to be concerned with widening our family when we seem to be having trouble with what we already have.”

Itachi was always alluded to, and never said aloud. The walls had ears. 

Mikoto would never admit she feared her son but she didn’t trust him, not when it came to the Leaf village. 

Mikoto scoffs, even if it's more perfunctory than anything. “It’s always politics with you, isn’t it?” 

Fugaku kisses her temple. His arm around her waist is unwavering. “Not that I wouldn’t want another child with you for the sake of it. I’d be very happy at the prospect. I wish we didn’t have to think of such things, but we must.” 

They are shinobi and cannot think only of themselves. They must be good shinobi.

They are Leaf and cannot think only of themselves. It is not allowed. 

They are Uchiha and cannot not think only of themselves. There is danger in that. 

Still, there is a temptation in selfishness. 

Mikoto sighed.“I suppose it wouldn’t be good to have another now anyway. Sasuke is a bit unsure of himself too. You put too much on him. A new baby would probably make things worse. He’d think we’re replacing him.” 

Fugaku furrows his brow. “I know I shouldn’t be so strict but everyone expects great things from both boys. Lady Raksasha already thinks I’m too soft with them. Itachi set the standard being the eldest, and I know it’s hard on Sasuke because his brother is far from any level of _ standard _ . _ ” _Fugaku relaxes as he absentmindedly twirls a piece of Mikoto’s hair between his fingers. “ I just hope they never have the same resentment for one another my brother and I had. Truthfully, I don’t think Sasuke would be jealous of a baby. He’s a sweet boy. He’d make a good big brother. He’d probably try to one up Itachi in that way.” 

Mikoto laughed and leaned her head on Fugaku’s shoulder. “Maybe your right.”

They never spoke of the idea of another child again. Instead, the fear for their younger son grew while the suspension of their eldest grew stronger too. 

What kind of parents can sleep with their own son as a spy against them? 

To face him as their executioner, while cruel, almost seemed like a sigh of relief: like they could finally stop pretending. 

* * *

To marry could be a useful protection, but it could come at the cost of her freedom. That is a cost she couldn’t afford, not if she wants to keep Sasuke safe. There isn’t any guarantee Suigetsu would be accepted fully into high society, as a ward or otherwise, with no knowledge of his background other than of the Hozuki. It isn’t like she has suitors lined up anyhow. Konoha is a threat few will risk angering, and not many know of her survival in the first place. She doesn’t want to marry a man who wants her bloodline, and nor does she want to be an accessory on a wealthy noble’s arm. Mikoto traces the ridges of her teacup with her nail and subtly nudges Suiegtsu’s foot when he starts to pick at his nose. 

She never liked politics and courtly games anyhow. All the pomp and fuss is too much stress. 

Perhaps she should’ve been a hired sword instead. 

It seems much simpler. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost to thirty thousand words and still a ways to go. Thanks for reading and commenting!  
In about two chapters, Mikoto will cross paths with someone from Konoha. Can you guess who?


	10. Ache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grass Country was the major front in the third shinobi war, and it still suffers.

Mikoto heard a story once that the rain is the ocean kissing the land.

Yet she always aches when it rains. Old wounds healed but never completely.

She rubs at her back and tries to ignore the dull throbbing in her chest.

The Grass country’s crops probably appreciate the rain. Suigetsu certainly does. He sticks his head out from the wagon awning to catch droplets on his tongue. He just laughs whenever someone warns him, he might catch a chill. Mikoto can’t say she’d choose rain over a good sunny day, but there is still something soothing about the rhythmic tapping on a wood roof. It lulls Sasuke to sleep. He snoozes with slow and even breaths against his mother’s shoulder. Mikoto is careful to not jostle him as she tries to stretch.

Suigetsu had promised to wake Sasuke if the caravan passed anything interesting, but the vast forests and towering fields of bamboo yield aren’t the historic castles of his dreams. Grass Country had always been more rural than some of its contemporaries, but the war left the land quieter than it had been before. Some of the other children of the traveling caravan whisper questions whenever they see the echoes of destruction, and their parents dutifully urge their children to look away.

It isn’t an uncommon sight to see abandoned towns dotted throughout the valleys. Many places never fully recovered from the war, but the civilian population of Kusa had been one of the worst off. It had been the largest front where Iwa and Konoha tore at each other’s throats. Burnt out homes stand empty expect for scavenging animals and the occasional wandering traveler. Bandits are known to take over an area and then abandon it when it looks like suspicious eyes are turning their way. Konoha shinobi are a risk to come across in Kusa, not far in the east, but Mikoto heard good things about Kusa’s diplomacy measures. Lord Yamagiwa had nothing but praise, so Mikoto figures a peak couldn’t hurt.

A child points out in alarm. “Mama, a fire!”

“It’s alright, darling.” A woman comforts her young child. “We’ll be away from it soon enough.”

The village they pass is not one destroyed in the war. It’s all too fresh. No plants have grown through cracked walls. No animals reclaiming their space wander about. The air is still filed with the arid stench of smoke. The buildings still smolder, and with only the soft crackle of wood to fill the eerie silence. The caravan falls quiet too. They avert their eyes and some whisper quiet prayers. From the look of it, Mikoto doubts there are any survivors.

Suigetsu leans back and mutters. “You see one destroyed town you’ve seen them all. If anything, we better hope whoever razed it isn’t still in the area cause a traveling caravan would make a real tempting target.”

Sasuke rubs at his eyes, the smoke irritating his nose waking him from his nap.

He asks, “do you think we could be attacked?”

Mikoto says, “the ones who did it are probably trying to get out of his drizzle. It’s slowing down, but the wagons will have a hard time if it gets any muddier.”

Suigetsu shrugs. “It’s just probably some shinobi getting drunk and causing trouble. They’ll come back when the fires are out to ransack the joint.” He elbows Sasuke with a mischievous grin. “What do you think? We should jump ahead of them and see if there’s any good supplies left. You ever see a dead body? They gotta be fresh if the fires are still burning.”

Sasuke’s lip trembles even as he tries to hide it. Mikoto hopes he’s not imagining them scavenging through the wreckage only to stumble upon burnt skeleton after burnt skeleton. The horror filling his eyes begs to differ. Her son might have endured the carnage of their own massacre, but he isn’t comfortable with it the way Suigetsu is.

Mikoto sighs. “Suigetsu, please be a bit more respectful.”

She knows it’s a lost cause, but it doesn’t hurt to try. Suigetsu sees little wrong with constant death. As much as he misses his brother, the knowledge that death is inevitable is always there. He’d lived surrounded by the toughest swordsmen of Kiri. One doesn’t live in Kiri without growing a thick skin. Konoha doesn’t endorse such softness either, but they do like to put up a front. Mikoto scolds Suigetsu, but it’s more for Sasuke’s sake than her own. She’d honestly been having similar thoughts to Suigetsu. Money doesn’t grow on trees, but she doesn’t want her son to think ill of her either.

Sasuke is a softer child, even with the massacre of their clan weighing on him. He’d always been a kind child. He trained hard to catch up with his brother, but he knew deep down the life of a shinobi isn’t a grand adventure. Mikoto still wanted him to remain her sweet child for just a bit longer. Even Fugaku, as much as he tried to hide it, wanted the same. They wanted to protect his kindness. Their second born son was allowed what they knew they could never give their eldest. Mikoto always wondered if it was as cruel as she felt.

The entire clan went out of the way to make sure their children were protected from the harsh truth of the village, but even they could see the tension between the two factions. They knew their duty to the village, but it rubbed harshly against their duty to the clan. How could they protect the children of their clan when they were surrounded by conflict anyhow? Softhearted children don’t survive in their world. If they manage to survive to adulthood, the child will be gone. Mikoto knew many who she would have called gentle once, but shinobi have no place for gentleness. It must be set aside and many never pick it up again.

“Mama, what if there’s survivors and they need help?” Sasuke tugs on her arm and pleads. “Mama, we have to go down and see!”

Mikoto pats his head. “You can’t save them all, sweetie. I don’t want you to see all that.”

“Can’t we at least get close and ask if anyone needs help?”

“That could be dangerous. We should just keep moving.”

Suigetsu jumps off the wagon before Mikoto can even finish speaking. He was interested as soon as the word dangerous left her mouth. Mikoto tells the wagon driver they’ll catch up as she follows Sasuke down the hill to the little town.

It’s easier to distance oneself from the wreckage when it’s far away. Up close one can make out clearly the overturned carts, clothes trampled in the dirt, and the remaining standing homes with doors flung open. The rain had slowed to a soft mist, but Mikoto wraps her jacket closer around her as she surveys the damage.

Mikoto passes a handkerchief to Suigetsu, but he refuses to hold it to his mouth. “Try not to breathe in the smoke, sweetie.”

Suigetsu huffs. “How come you’re not telling Sasuke that!”

“One of our jutsu regularly involves inhaling a bit of smoke. He’ll be fine.”

Suigetsu can’t argue the logic, so he doesn’t even try. Instead, he squats down and starts picking up discarded coins from the dirt. Encouraging him wouldn’t be good, but neither would discouraging his practicality. Mikoto still tucks the handkerchief into his pocket and warns him to not put anything strange in his mouth.

Sasuke cups his hands around his mouth and yells. “Hey, is there anyone in there? Do you need help?”

Mikoto listens closely for any cries or sounds of movement, but only the rustle of the breeze answers Sasuke.

“If there was anyone they must be long gone by now.”

Mikoto is warmed by Sasuke’s intentions, but she wants to leave. She dutifully trails after him as they carefully walk down the paths, but she wants to grab him and turn right back around. The broken windows and torn shoji screens bring back too many memories. She blinks and sees Uchiwa where there are none. Familiar faces keep coming to mind no matter how much she tries to shove them away. They are not the people hidden beneath the ashes, as she tries to avert her gaze from anything that even remotely resembles charred bone, but she sees them anyway.

Sasuke’s shoulders droop. “Mama…are you sure?”

Mikoto isn’t sure, but she needs to make sure Suigetsu hadn’t stumbled on any broken glass.

She steers Sasuke back the way they came even as he drags his feet.

Neither of them even notices the little girl following them.

A high-pitched voice whispers in awe. “Your chakra’s warm!”

Without thinking, Mikoto throws a kunai in the same direction. The voice squeaks but manages to avoid the blade coming towards it. Mikoto listens to the strained breathing. She grips Sasuke’s arm before he can run off again.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to scare you.”

A little girl with bright red hair, one hand clutching her side, peeks out from behind a collapsed wall. She gives Sasuke a soft smile before hesitantly turning her attention to Mikoto. The girl gasps. “Lady, your eyes…”

Mikoto hadn’t even realized she’d activated her sharingan. She blinks them away and kneels to the girl’s height. Of all the people they could run into, it’s one with hair like that. Her own eyes remember Kushina’s wave of red falling down her back. She used to slide her fingers through it whenever Kushina begged her to braid it. She complained she got too tired doing it herself, and Mikoto could never deny her.

The little girl’s hair is the same shade of Uzumaki red, even if her eye color marks her of a different family. The girl must be an Uzumaki.

Mikoto hopes the poor girl has some family she can rely on but knows none of them can afford to be optimistic.

“Are you alone here?” She asks.

The girl says nothing, but she favors her right leg as she limps towards them. Her eyes dart to and fro in a frantic watch. Mikoto wants to reach out to her but doesn’t want to frighten her more than she already is.

Sasuke asks. “What was that you said about chakra earlier?”

The girl’s cheeks blossom into a blush that seems to emphasis the roundness of cheeks. They look like small tomatoes.

She says. “It’s your chakra. It’s nice and warm. I like it a lot.”

Sasuke glances at his mother for guidance, but Mikoto is too busy trying not to laugh.

“Thank you…I guess.” Sasuke scratches his nose, “Do you need help? You look hurt.”

The girl doesn’t have time to answer before someone else does, very loudly.

“Gross, gross, disgusting!”

Suigetsu jumps over the wall like an alley cat with a wicked sharp grin on his face. His pockets bulging and jingling. The girl screams and whirls around to throw a right hook at his head. Suigetsu only has enough time to react in a quick scream of his own before the force of the girl’s hit sends him into a puddle.

The girl mutters under her breathe. “He’s Kiri. He’s Kiri. I know, I can feel it. He’s Kiri.”

Suigetsu solidifies half of his body out of his puddle and taps the girl’s foot. “That hurt, ya spaz! I ain’t with Kiri anymore. I’m working with this Uchiha lot.”

The girl lifts her leg to stomp, but Mikoto stops her.

“He won’t hurt you, darling, none of us will.” She helps Suigestu stand when he reforms completely even as the boy huffs in indignation. “He’s Hozuki Suigetsu and I’m Uchiha Mikoto. The one with the chakra is my son Uchiha Sasuke.”

The girl sneaks away from Suigetsu, edging closer to Sasuke, as she fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “Karin of the Grass.”

The answer falls of her tongue automatically, like it had been practiced many times. She’d probably repeated it and repeated that same mantra over and over until it seemed like the only truth. Karin of the Grass and not Uzumaki. Her red hair gave her away to Mikoto, but there is much more danger in a name. A name is an assurance, while appearance can only be a guess.

“Karin, sweetie, what happened here?”

Karin’s voice quivers as she speaks. “I tried to warn them.”

Her shoulders shake as she wraps her arms around herself.

“I felt a big group coming this way, so I tried telling them. Nobody would listen to me, so I hid.”

“Well, then you’re smarter than those bozos!” Suigetsu exclaims. “You lived so you must be stronger than you look.”

Sasuke whispers none too quietly that Suigetsu probably shouldn’t refer to the dead as bozos. Karin’s lip curls, but she settles when Mikoto puts a hand on her shoulder. She can’t snatch the villager’s screams from Karin’s ears, or erase the helpless terror that still tremors in her bones. But she can wash the smoke from her clothes and patch up the scraps and bruises. A young Uzumaki along isn’t any better off than a young Hozuki, but she still wants to let the girl go if she makes that choice.

“We’re traveling with a merchant caravan. We’ll get you patched up there.” Mikoto asks. “How does that sound?”

Karin pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a hard sniff. She glares at Suigetsu but softens when she sees Sasuke waiting for her answer. “I guess it sounds good. Not like I’ve got anything to do here anyway.”

Karin is about to take Mikoto’s hand when she jerks to attention. She squints trying to look out into the distance. “I sense a chakra coming this way. It feels strong.” She shivers and turns to Mikoto. “Weird too.”

Mikoto can barely sense it, but there’s no doubting the chakra coming their way.

There’s no way she’s getting involved in _that_.

“Let’s go, children, and quickly.”

As much as Mikoto wants any information on her son, there’s no way she’ll go to the likes of _him_. He’d probably snatch up the children for his experiments if given the chance, and there’s no way she’s letting that happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not overly pleased with this chapter, but I think it's cause I was also trying to work out a Naruto-centric chapter for Let Us Live. It is what is.   
An aside, hope everyone's staying safe the best they can.


	11. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karin struggles to mesh with the group, but Mikoto tries to make it easier.

Karin slaps her hands on the low table. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Suigetsu blows a raspberry at her. “You shut up, harpy!”

Sasuke yells. “Both of you _shut up_!”

Mikoto discreetly rubs at her left temple and sends a placating smile to the tea house staff glancing in their direction. Some of the other patrons look annoyed enough to make a complaint and Mikoto can’t blame them. She doesn’t want to be asked to leave from _another_ establishment in the same week. It looks like a real possibility if she can’t get the children to stop shouting.

“Children, can you all please quiet down. This is a public setting. It isn’t polite to argue so loudly here.”

Sasuke tugs on Mikoto’s sleeve and looks up at her with wide eyes. “I was trying to get them to stop, Mama.”

Suigetsu rolls his eyes at Sasuke’s innocent pretense. “Mama’s boy! Suck-up! It’s Karin who started it. I didn’t do anything!” He stuffs a rice cracker in his mouth but doesn’t let up on his glaring contest with Karin. Karin glares back with her lip curled and arms crossed across her chest.

Karin hisses. “I didn’t start _shit_! He’s the one that started it by looking at me funny! And don’t say rude things to Sasuke. He’s better than you!”

“Like hell he is!”

Mikoto reminds them “Quiet, please!” as she catches a waitress whispering to her coworker.

The arguments had been constant. Mikoto had argued and brawled with her own siblings as the third of four children, but she’d never had to settle arguments with her own children. Living with her eldest son was almost like having a strange small roommate. He was polite to his parents and his brother. He tended to ignore Sasuke, but every disagreement she saw between the two ended in her eldest son either side stepping Sasuke’s demands or pacifying him in the moment. They never actually fought over anything. Even Sasuke, who threw fits like normal, lost his temper, cried when his feelings were hurt wasn’t ever overly argumentative to his parents. He’d question on occasion, but it didn’t take much to either work it through or shut down any whining. The bicker ware of traded insults, complaining, and fits between Sasuke, Karin, and Suigetsu feels like new ground to Mikoto.

She wonders if she’s even handling it well.

Suigetsu eventually settled enough to get along with Sasuke, but neither child immediately warmed up to Karin. Karin and Suigetsu constantly clash like they already decided their relationship will be one of war.

Mikoto wants them all to get along for the sake of peace, and even if Sasuke asks for it, no one is getting left behind.

Uzumaki Karin goes with them for lack of better options.

She has no one and nowhere else to go, and Mikoto tries hard to make herself seem like a better option than just going it alone. Appearing too intimidating would be off-putting, but to seem completely harmless might come off as incompetent. She carefully walks a narrow road. It usually works well enough. Sasuke is an unexpected asset in getting Karin to join them. Her comments about his chakra were the start of blushes and giggles that sent Sasuke into confused grumbles. Mikoto teases him about it, but Sasuke uses it as argument that they shouldn’t let Karin join them. He’s only barely accepted Suigestu, and his tolerance wavers depending on the day. Mikoto assures him she’ll grow out of it. Sasuke complains and sneers at Karin in hopes that day comes faster.

So far, his attempts have been in vain.

Karin tries to be sneaky when sliding closer and closer to Sasuke’s spot at the table, but Sasuke eventually catches on and scooches away. Karin moves closer, knocking her elbow against Sasuke’s, jarring his teacup. The rest of barely drunk tea dribbles down the front of his shirt. He jumps up, but Mikoto grabs his hand before he can do anything. Suigetsu casually tosses the napkins over to their side of the table.

“Mama! Tell Karin to quit bothering me!” Sasuke slams what remains of his tea down on the table. It sloshes over the sides spilling onto the corner of the napkin pile.

Karin picks up the driest napkin and tries to pat it on Sasuke’s shirt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I wasn’t doing anything!”

Sasuke bats her hands away. “Mama! Make her stop!”

Mikoto sighs as their waitress tentatively walks over, check in hand, and asks them to please leave.

“I’m sorry. You’re disturbing the other patrons.”

She says, “No, I’m so sorry. You know how rambunctious children can be. We’ll go.”

She pushes the children’s heads down to bow as they mumble insincere apologies. The children aren’t the least bit ashamed of their behavior as they’re marched out of the tea house. Sasuke grumpily rubs at the stain on his shirt as they walk. Suigetsu isn’t concerned at all. He’s snacking on the complementary cookies. He grabbed as many as his hands could carry before they left. Karin stomps behind Mikoto in what she presumes is a self-justified rage. She kicks up dirt with each harsh step. The boys lag between the two of them, so Mikoto takes her hand in her own.

“I’m not mad if you’re worried about that.” She assures her. “We can figure out a training regime for all of you when we get back to the motel. Does that sound fun?”

“It’s not that.” Karin huffs. “It’s Suigetsu! He keeps bothering me. He’s so stupid! He’s gross and rude and keeps bullying Sasuke. I hate him! He’s cruel, and mean, and just… horrible!”

“He’s not that bad.”

“He’s…He’s…” Karin struggles for the word she wants; the perfectly accurate word that describes her utter disgust with breathing the same air as Suigetsu. “I don’t want to train with _him_. He’s of Kiri! _Kiri!” _She spits out Kiri like the very word tastes sour.

Mikoto checks on the two boys. They stopped walking a while back to investigate a turtle slowly making its way across the road. She calls for them to keep following but has to yell at them to not touch wildlife when Sasuke tries to bring the turtle along.

She shakes her head with a smile and turns her attention back to Karin. “He was from Kiri, now he has nowhere to truly call home. None us do. Our villages, Kiri and Konoha, turned their backs on us before we left them. He may be Kiri born in every way, but more than that he is a Hozuki.”

Karin sniffles. “What’s that matter?”

“The Hozuki clan were murdered by Kiri too.

Mikoto doesn’t ask her to try and get along with Suigetsu, but when they get back to their motel room Karin doesn’t slam the door in his face. Sasuke and Suigetsu even drop the sticks they found without even being prompted.

Hopefully that means she’ll get at least a bit of peace, enough so her headache goes away.

Mikoto tries to make sure Karin and Suigetsu feel welcome as much as she can. She must walk a fine line of affection so Sasuke doesn’t get jealous, but he’s _usually_ pretty understanding. Suigetsu is very independent, even if he plays it up so he can mock Sasuke’s clinginess. Mikoto doesn’t mind Sasuke’s attitude. He’s always been her baby. Karin doesn’t expect to be babied, but even if she pretends otherwise, she doesn’t want to be left to her own devices either.

They’re only children after all.

Keeping a bedtime routine is important for Sasuke, so Mikoto always tries to make sure they follow it. They set rules for bedtime, even if Suigetsu claims it’s lame. Mikoto pushes all the futons together so it feels more secure for everyone. Suigetsu snores, and Karin sprawls, but Sasuke never complains so long as he knows his mother is close by. Sasuke will complain on occasion that he wants to take a bath with his mother and not Suigetsu, but the boys end up soaking the bathroom with water in their splash fights anyway. Karin tells Mikoto she doesn’t need her help washing her hair, but she giggles when soap bubbles are tapped on her nose. Everyone must brush their teeth and go to the bathroom before they get into their futons.

It’s nice. It feels like some semblance of normal.

After their bath, Suigetsu vigorously towels Sasuke’s hair like he’s shaking out a dusty rug. Sasuke growls like a bedraggled cat, and when the towel is pulled away his hair stands up even more wildly than usual. Karin sighs as she tries to wring out the dripping ends of her hair. Mikoto pats the top of her futon for Karin to take a seat.

“Here, let me braid your hair.” Karin looks at her and blinks, eyes wide behind her slightly fogged glasses. Mikoto gestures for her to come over. “Your hair. I’ll help you with it.”

Karin nods and scampers over. She plops down in front of Mikoto and lets Mikoto run her fingers through her smooth scarlet hair. Mikoto starts by brushing it through, then sectioning it, and tries to be as gentle as she can be. Karin doesn’t complain if she does tug at her scalp. Mikoto pulls her hair tie off her wrists with her teeth and finds herself thinking of her eldest son.

She’d watched him haphazardly pull his own hair into a braid. He tugged the uneven sections together so hastily it was like he was tying ship rope instead. A messy cord of a braid hung down to the top of his shoulders. He mostly threw it into a low ponytail, but the image of his quick braid would come to her on occasion. She never worked up the courage to ask him if she could braid his hair. His long silky hair was so much like her own, yet she didn’t know how to ask her own son if she could tie it up for him. He never asked her even with all the times he saw her playing with her own hair. Even once, she’d gotten bored and put hairclips and bands into a young Sasuke’s hair. Fugaku coughed to hide a snicker when he saw, but her eldest son said nothing.

Mikoto wondered if he would’ve said yes had she asked him.

As Mikoto gets to the bottom of Karin’s braid, she says. “I had an Uzumaki friend once. She always asked me to braid her hair. It was very long, went all the way down her back. She loved it so much and swore never to cut it.”

Karin exclaims. “You knew an Uzumaki! Like a real, living, Uzumaki!”

“Your best friend you told me about?” Sasuke asks. “That Kushina lady?”

Mikoto nods. “Yes, Uzumaki Kushina was my best friend for a time.

Perhaps when they are older, Mikoto will tell them Kushina was not only her friend.

She loved her.

Sasuke had believed his parents marriage perfect until Mikoto told him the truth of their arrangement. They certainly learned to accept one another and found love neither expected, but they had to work at it. It wasn’t love at first sight or a whirlwind romance, but Mikoto loved him. She still loves him. Sometimes, Mikoto wonders if her marriage to Fugaku is what cemented Kushina accepting Minato’s affections, but she never got the chance to ask. She hoped Minato loved her but didn’t trust him enough to say it for sure. Even if they weren’t together, she still wanted her to be happy. Even if they weren’t lovers, they were still friends.

“Kushina was very brash and rambunctious like you Suigetsu, but sweet like you Sasuke. She had a bit of a temper that could be a bit much sometimes, but she wanted people to be happy more than anything. She wanted friends even if she had a hard time making them. I always thought she was fearless. I ended up her friend on accident, but I’m glad I did. She knew a bit about seals and tried teaching me what she knew. She was very proud of her chakra chains and wanted to learn as much as she could about the Uzumaki’s past. She had this grand plan that one day we’d do see the ruins of Uzu together.”

People called Kushina beautiful when she grew, while Mikoto told her she was lovely when she was a round cheeked tomboy. Kushina hid all her worries behind stubbornness. She was easily excitable and often complained that she thought Mikoto acted too cool. Mikoto told her it was a clan secret that would earn her a kiss. Kushina was bold in giving affection. She’d pull Mikoto into bear hugs and pepper her face with kisses. Most of their dates were on training grounds. Kushina claimed her chakra chains were easier to manage when Mikoto was around. They were so young back then, and so full of dreams.

Karin asks. “Is your friend gone now.”

Mikoto finishes the tail of the braid and then runs her hand over it to soothe any loose hairs. “Yes, Kushina has been dead for many years now. I’ve done my grieving, but I suppose seeing you brings out those thoughts. I keep her alive in my memories.”

Karin looks over her shoulder at her with a sad smile. “Thank you, Miss. Mikoto.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Suigetsu scurries over to them wielding his hairbrush like a weapon. “Hey, hey braid my hair too!”

Mikoto surveys Suigetsu’s lanky silver locks. They shine a damp glean no number of towels could ever take away. She shrugs and decides it can’t hurt to try. He’d cry unfair if she didn’t. She braids his bangs into a small side braid. The braid doesn’t hold long. It slowly melts away, the small intricate twist fading into nothing as it slips into water down Suigetsu’s face. The water droplets seep back into his skin with no trace of his former braid left in his hair.

Mikoto hides a chuckle behind her hand. “It was worth a try, and it was pretty while it lasted.”

Suigetsu nods solemnly. “Sometimes the best things are short lived. I must’ve been really gorgeous.”

The children laugh and Mikoto tells them to settle down. It’s time for bed. They crawl beneath their futons and Mikoto tugs the hanging light cord sending the room into darkness. They trade a chorus of goodnights as they burrow under their blankets. Suigetsu always end up kicking his comforter off, but Mikoto tucks him in tightly anyway. Sasuke cuddles close to her as he tries to get comfortable. Karin turns her back to them as she curls up on her side. Mikoto watches her and hopes she feels safe with them all.

Many people had asked her if she wanted a daughter back in the day. The Hyuuga clan head sired two daughters, while the Uchiha head family had two sons. The Uchiha clan itself was indifferent to the matter of a girl or boy as heir. The last two clan heads prior to Fugaku had been women. Before her death, Mikoto had teased Fugaku’s mother. She bore the clan two sons, and now the generation after saw two sons as well. Lady Torabana scoffed and told her it better not be a horrible sign. The division between her sons was a cause of constant strife for her, even if she eventually grew to not favor either of her sons. It was only exceeded by her distaste of her own husband.

Mikoto was content with her two sons, but old widows and shopkeepers would still ask as they giggled into their hands.

Mikoto looks down at Sasuke, resting his eyes on her arm, and wonders if she could’ve been a better mother to a daughter. She doesn’t think she was a bad mother to her sons, but she knows she could’ve been better. Could’ve tried harder. There was much she didn’t know and would probably never know about him. She strives to do better now for Sasuke. Her stomach coils into knots as she thinks about her eldest son. Maybe she could’ve done more, reached out to him more, but sweeps the what-ifs away from her mind. Fugaku is gone. That past will never return. Her oldest son is as good as gone. There’s no going back.

There’s only what’s in front of her now.

Mikoto barely catches the soft noise. It’s muffled, but in the dark quiet room she can make out a gentle crying. Sasuke looks up at her with dry bleary eyes. Suigetsu isn’t the one crying. His cries sound more snot-ridden anyway.

Suigetsu yawns. “What’s goin’ on?”

Mikoto sits up and sees Karin is curled up away from them. Her shoulders shaking as she cries. Sasuke crawls over to Karin’s futon and pats her back. “It’s okay, Karin. Don’t cry.”

Karin slowly turns towards him. Her face crumples up when she weeps, and tears streak her glasses. “I miss my mama…”

Mikoto hasn’t asked what happened to Karin’s family, but always assumed it wasn’t good.

Sasuke quietly asks what Mikoto hadn’t, and Karin cries harder as she speaks.

“Mama healed people with her chakra. Kusagakure said we could stay if she did…but they took too much. I want my mama. I miss my _mama_!”

Mikoto replies, “It’s alright to miss her. There’s nothing wrong with being sad. It’s okay, Karin. It will hurt and continue to hurt, but I know your mother would be happy to know you are safe and strong. It’s okay to cry for her.”

Sasuke whispers to her about his father. Mikoto pretends she doesn’t hear when Sasuke talks about his big brother. He admits he misses him even with all that he’s done. Suigetsu climbs over Mikoto’s legs to get to Karin and Sasuke. He tells the other children he doesn’t remember his own parents. He knows he had them, but his older brother never spoke about them.

Mikoto leans over and takes Karin’s glasses gently from her face. She cleans the tear stains from the glass before handing them back. She rubs Karin’s back as the other children crowd around her. “I can’t replace your mother, but do you want to know something.” The children all nod to show they’re listening. “I want you all to look after one another. You may bicker and disagree. You’re all different people, but you only have each other. You should take care of one another and I’ll take care of you all.”

Karin sniffles. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, a mission for Mikoto.


	12. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mission ends in a meeting with an familiar face from the past.

Her eldest son had small delicate hands, thin fingers that never really had the chubbiness most children possessed. Her youngest brother, Masato, would tease the boy by easily wrapping his fingers around the skinny little wrists. Fugaku thought Masato had no ground to stand on as thin as he was.

Mikoto always wondered, when her son walked through the door after each mission, how many lives his little hands had ended. He was ANBU, the elite, known above all else for their secrecy regarding missions but most know assassinations are their main trade. When he came in for the evening, he took off his armor at the door and Mikoto knows he never _truly_ took it off. With the demise of her clan she knows with absolute certainly his hands are soaked in blood, but truly at the heart of it all shinobi are killers. She is, as was Fugaku. Every shinobi of every village is a killer. Konoha speaks pretty words about duty and loyalty, but it only makes them killers with a mantra—nothing more.

To kill for country, for life, for request: its all the same. When Mikoto is asked to take someone’s life for information she doesn’t think much of it because it suits her. She’s a shinobi who has killed and can do so again if she must. She doesn’t enjoy it but knows she’s able. They all can dream of a world where they don’t have to, but it isn’t the world she lives in. She’s not passing up a chance to find anything she can on her eldest son.

The man, said to call him Akio, is the son of a high-ranking noble lord who dabbles in shady business. It’s a shaky lead, but it’s the first lead she’s found in a long time. The man said he’d tell her confidential information on her son, but on one condition. Do this one thing for me, it’s all I ask, he pleaded. Kill Sakamoto Iwao, and I’ll tell you what you want to know. The children fought and argued, but she denied them. They couldn’t come. Mikoto ushered them into the home of an old contact and promised she’d be back soon.

Scaling the side of the manor while rubbing her tired eyes, she almost wishes she stayed with the children. Imagining a warm dinner with the joyful laughter of the children at the table hinders more than helps her assent. The air is chilly, and only Mikoto’s sharingan allows her to see her way through the deep darkness, with only a sliver of moon to aide her. She only knows the vaguest specifics of the wealthy businessman she’s been sent to kill. He’s had rumors of moneylaudering, and a couple on-the-side relationships his wife didn’t know about, but he’s at least childless. She thinks the little nobleman’s son struck a bad deal, and now want’s out of it, but shinobi generally don’t ask questions. The guards at the gate are ridiculously easy to slip past. Muscle memory comes back to her as Mikoto sweeps silently through the shadows, no one the wiser. One would think for such a wealthy man he’d splurge for better security.

She slides in through a window, not even leaving a single fingerprint on the glass. It’s almost fun. Having Suigetsu run laps for talking back doesn’t require the same finesse. Giving Sasuke and Karin vocabulary tests in tantum as they compete for the highest score doesn’t take much of her skill. Mikoto takes a moment to stretch her shoulders as she surveys the hall. The old architect’s map she scourged up could only do so much in getting the layout of the place. No footsteps, no rustles, and silent breath: Mikoto runs to the main bedroom. Sakamoto should be sleeping peacefully unaware of the fate soon to befall him.

The familiar green of a Konoha vest catches her eye and stops her in her tracks. Under the window’s moonlight, Nara Shikaku is waiting. He holds out a kunai, ready to strike, but he stops when he makes out the face of the unknown trespasser. She freezes, feeling the blood drain from her face.

Neither person knows what to do. Neither moves. What can they say? Mikoto’s hands shake and she chokes down her uneven breathes.

_She’d been so careful._ She’d kept one step ahead of Konoha, and now she’s face to face to one of its most important agents. Nara Shikaku had been assigned Jonin Commander not long before she left the village. She doesn’t want to kill him. But if he reports her existence back to Konoha, they’ll have to run farther. All her plans would be for nothing. Itachi will surely find out. Every safety measure she’s drilled into Sasuke will be for naught.

“You’re alive…” Shikaku lowers his weapon slowly. “Mikoto.” He whispers her name like he still doesn’t believe what his eyes are seeing right in front of him. “That’s really you. Same sharingan, same chakra. I can’t believe it_. How? Why? I don’t—”_ He stumbles over his words, losing his train of thought in the end. In all the years Mikoto had known Shikaku, she never knew him to be at a loss for words. He was always ten steps ahead of everyone else; thoughts perfectly alphabetized when everyone else was still trying to come up with ideas as he waited patiently for them to catch up.

Killing him would be difficult. It wouldn’t go unnoticed and Shikaku is far from weak. But she can’t just let him go. He’ll make a report. He’ll think the village will be amazed and joyous. The Uchiha are alive! They’ll track them no matter the cost if they know a such valuable assets are left unchecked. Who knows what they’d do to Karin and Suigetsu? They might try and hand Suigetsu back to Kiri as a boon, and Karin’s abilities might amaze them enough to keep her. They’d send her straight to the academy.

She can’t let that happen.

“Please!” She whispers desperately. Her hands ache to reach out to him and cling to his shirt. It might inspire some mercy from him, but her pride won’t allow it. She hates the tightness creeping up her throat. If only she could slit his throat and be done with it, but Shikaku wouldn’t be a type of man to die quietly. “Please, my son, my baby Sasuke. I have to protect him. Please tell _no one_. No one can know I am alive. It isn’t safe. Shikaku, I’m begging you. _Please_!”

Shikaku places his hands on her shoulders, each movement hesitant and slow. Mikoto wants to lash out at being treated like a startled deer, but his touch does steady her. He meets her eyes, not in the least bothered by her sharingan. He whispers. “Calm yourself. It’s…it’s alright. Look, we can discuss this later, if you don’t run. If you’re here for the guy in the master bedroom, then I guess we’re here for the same job. “

Mikoto asks. “Sakamoto Iwao?”

He nods. “He’s apparently been causing trouble for people in court and business the Hokage has interest in. I don’t really know. I didn’t ask. I was hired to protect him, and then turn it around and see to it he dies. I might have staged a little accident, so he’s already kicked it. I was about to head out when I ran into you.”

Mikoto almost wishes Shikaku hadn’t swept her mission out from under her. It would’ve at least served as a good distraction.

She pushes him away. “Then there’s no reason for me to be here.”

Shikaku had never been a man quick to anger, but when she starts to walk away, he grabs her arm. His hand clenches tightly around her wrist, and while Mikoto expected a slight sheen of tears she hadn’t expected to see a raging fire building behind his eyes.

“I was one of the first allowed on scene after the ANBU. I saw the compound. I saw what _looked_ like your body. I saw Fugaku’s body…” His voice cracks, but Mikoto doesn’t comment on it. “You’re coming with me out of here, we’re going to sneak back past the guards, and you’re telling me why. “He shakes her arm. “Why_ are you alive?_”

Determination. Luck. Mikoto knows none of those answers will satisfy him, and if she tries to run, he’d only follow. Mikoto wretches her arm out his grasp and struggles to force the image of her husband’s body away from her mind. She doesn’t care if she saw it. She was the one who endured the dead weight on top of her as his blood mixed with her own. He doesn’t need to remind her. She’d seen more than enough to remember.

They run until they’re a good distance from a mansion before Shikaku asks her the same question yet again. “Why? Mikoto, everyone—we all thought you were dead!”

“If I can have it my way it’ll stay that way. I can’t tell you everything. I won’t. It’s dangerous. It’s dangerous just speaking to you right now. My clan is dead, and I can’t have you telling people I’m not.”

Mikoto can see the gears turning in his head. Shikaku probably thinks she’s afraid of her eldest son, not the village. He’d never been given a reason to question Konoha. He’d never think she feared it. It was their home. They grew up there and served the village faithfully. He probably thinks she ran out of fear her son would come back to kill her if he knew. Maybe he thinks she believes it would safer for her baby and the village if she stays away.  
Shikaku jabs his finger in her face, accusing as his voice struggles to remain calm. He’s shocked, but the anger overpowers it. “I thought I saw your body. If you’re alive then Fugaku… did he?”

Did he know? Did he want this? _Did he make it?_

“He’s dead. They’re all dead.” She says. “It’s just me and Sasuke now. Fugaku’s gone. I healed myself enough to run, but he died first.”

He nods like he expected it, but he bites his lower lip, turns, and kicks the closest tree. He keeps kicking as bark scatters and splinters off the trunk. Mikoto can’t stand to listen to his pitiful grunts, as he tries not to cry, any longer so she drags him away.

“Shikaku, stop it. That’s enough. I know seeing me isn’t bringing up good memories for you. Seeing you isn’t doing any good for me either. But it is what it is, and we both have to deal with it.

Shikaku whirls around to face her. All righteous fury and tears refusing to fall. He yells, like a fool, uncaring of who hears. “I loved him!”

_Why are you alive instead of him? Why are you still here, and he isn’t? _

Mikoto still asks herself that question on the worst nights. She wonders what life would be like, on the run with a rabble of children, only with her husband at her side. She tries not to entertain the worst thought. People always think ‘it should’ve been me instead’ when they’re left alive. Mikoto doesn’t. She _does_ want to live. She wants to see Sasuke grow and be safe, and her living it the only way to ensure that. She doesn’t want to trade her life for Fugaku’s, but on the worst nights the guilt sludges through her veins. Maybe she could’ve saved him, somehow. Maybe she could’ve saved more of them. She tries to memorize each detail of Sasuke’s face, so she knows what she’s fighting for.

On the worst nights when holding the children close isn’t enough, she sneaks out to stand outside the door, no matter the weather, like it will protect them from any danger that could come lurking. Like it will make the guilt go away. Like if she closes her eyes and lets the chill soak into her bones Fugaku will poke his head out the door, sleepy eyed and yawning, and ask her to come back to bed.

She shouts back, “Do you think I don’t! Huh?”

Mikoto remembers. Before their marriage, she hadn’t given much thought to Fugaku. She knew he stress vomited because it was the hottest topic of gossip when it happened at the last Fire Festival, a constant disappointment to his mother. She knew he was often pushed by Uchiha Ryuichi, the clan heir. She never bothered much with him, the weird second-born son, but she knew of his relationship with Nara Shikaku. They acted like it was a secret, but everyone knew it. His father even gossiped to his most recent lady friends about his son trailing after the Nara heir like a lovesick puppy. They were teenagers, young and in-love, with nothing to fear.

She also knows what broke that apart.

Fugaku’s brother handed over the position of clan head and then had the gall to die. Fugaku became clan head, married, and had a son. The Nara had duties of his own to his clan. They chose their clans over one another.

Mikoto doesn’t regret falling in love with Fugaku, and she doesn’t regret Fugaku loving her. But she still wonders if Fugaku ever fully moved on from his young love.

She can easily see him, still with a sweet softness to his face, as Shikaku casually wrapped an arm around his shoulders. No one would know how much of a blusher Fugaku was if they never saw his ears. But Shikaku, always apathetic to others, would kiss him lazily whenever the urge struck reveling in the blush creeping down Fugaku’s neck. They sat close together, shoulder to shoulder, in tea shops and restaurants like no one else in the world existed. The Yamanaka and Akimichi heirs never bothered their friend with reminders of responsibilities, and it hadn’t mattered when Fugaku was the spare. Shikaku adored Fugaku. Tsume told her how his eyes constantly darted to Fugkau’s seat in meetings. Mikoto didn’t think then he’d ever stop.

Shikaku’s eyes, full of grief and longing, pin her to her spot. Mikoto will never know how Fugaku felt, but she knows how Shikaku feels all too well.

“I loved him too, and he’s gone. Now I must protect our son. I know you care for the village, but I won’t go back. Please…”

Shikaku deflates letting his shoulders loosen as his earlier rage dampers. He sighs and rubs his neck. This is a Nara that Mikoto is more familiar with. “I don’t fully know why, but I won’t say anything. You have my word.”

Shikaku wants to follow her. She knows he wants to see where she’s going, who she’s meeting, and what her plans are, but she shares none of it with him. He tells her of his plans to return to the village and give a dull report. In it everything will go as planned. He says if she needs anything to get in contact, but both know she won’t. She won’t risk it. Neither really knows what to say when they part ways. Mikoto promises him she’ll be careful before he can tell her to take care of herself, and they run in opposite directions.

For a moment, Mikoto gets the impulse to run after him. She thinks for a split second of running home with the Jonin commander to vouch for her. They won’t touch her children if too many eyes are watching. The village will accept any story if it means having Uchiha. Mikoto wants to hit herself for even having such a ridiculous thought, even in passing. It’s the dream of a little girl who gazed at the Hokage mountain with pride.

That girl called Konoha home, and it isn’t home anymore.

Not after what they did to her family.

She reports to the little nobleman’s son, Akio, before she makes her way back to the children. He grins when she says Sakamoto Iwao is dead. He’d already heard word of his death anyway but likes hearing it come from Mikoto herself. Mikoto doesn’t care to hear his boyish regaling of his death. She just wants to know what he knows. She almost wishes she hadn’t taken the mission when she hears it. She doesn’t know for certain if it’s true or not, but the evidence Akio presents is too numerous for a lie.

He presents testimonies from backwoods doctors, usage of experimental medicines, witnesses who’d claim he isn’t as strong as he seems.

He says Itachi is sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so In first drafted outline Mikoto meets Kakashi, but I ended up going with Shikaku in callback to my Fugaku-centric work and because I thought it worked better.


	13. Gentle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suigetsu meets a boy who tells him to go away or he's going to die. Suigetsu reacts as expected.

“We’re lost!”

“Mrs. Mikoto, are we lost?”

Mikoto opens her mouth to answer Karin, but before she can Suigetsu does.

“We ain’t lost!” Suigetsu exclaims. “I know where we are!”

“Oh, yeah, genius? If you know where we are then where are we?” Karin puts her hands on her hips and waits for an answer.

“We’re in a forest.” Suigetsu says firmly after a moment of thought.

Karin rolls her eyes. “No shit.”

Sasuke asks, “But _where_ in a forest?”

Mikoto pats each child’s head and scans her sharingan through the trees. “Well, we passed through Grass and the plan is to head to Iron. Since the map met its untimely end to Suigetsu’s water bottle. And yes, I know it was an accident. We could be anywhere from the border of Rain to Earth country. It’d be too troublesome to go to the main road if we’re in Earth, but I don’t think we have much of a choice.” She slips her compass out of her pocket. To go south would almost certainly lead them into Wind Country. North could mean Mountain or further into Earth country.

Sasuke tugs on Mikoto’s sleeve and says. “If _I_ held onto the map, it wouldn’t have been ruined.”

The map’s ruin came about when Karin and Suigetsu were fighting over it, so Sasuke believes his name is clear. Karin and Suigetsu glance at one another with wicked grins at Sasuke’s declaration. They circle Sasuke like vultures as they sing. “Mama’s boy. Mama’s boy! Wa wa wa!” They rub at their eyes in mockery of tears. Sasuke tosses his head and scoffs.

Mikoto sighs. “Now, now. None of that. I’m going to climb up so I can see how far we are from civilization and you three better behave. No teasing one another, and no fighting”

They agree, trying to look innocent, but Mikoto doesn’t doubt they’re going to hiss and whisper rude words to one another the moment she’s above the tree line.

The first thrum of chakra feels like a jolt to her nerves, but once she starts up the towering red wood tree it almost feels as if she were back in Konoha. Tree walking up the enormous Hashirama-grown trees had been a constant for any Konoha shinobi. Darting through the branches of the redwood tree still reminds her even as the sap catches on the bottom of her sandals, and the pine scent overwhelms her nose. Reaching the top, she peeks out over the open air and takes a breath. The sky is immense in its vastness seeming even larger than usual higher up. She can’t even see the children below, but the forest stretches on for miles. It’s only when she activates her sharingan she notices a settlement to the northeast: small enough to not be a Hidden Village, but big enough to be more than a couple of homes. She jumps from branch to branch back down the tree, and startles Karin when she hops out from the canopy to the ground below.

“The nearest town is good ways away. With how late in the day it already is, I think it would simply be best to make camp here.”

Sasuke grumbles at the thought of sleeping on the ground, but Karin shoulder checks him before tossing her pack on the ground. “Just be thankful we didn’t loose the map in Rain Country, or we’d be sleeping on damp cots!”

Roughing it isn’t new to them. Mikoto tries to keep the kids in relative comfort, jumping from safehouse to motel and back again, but with the amount of traveling they do camping is an inevitability. She tries to make it fun for them: sleeping in the open air under the stairs, roasting fish on sticks, telling stories around the campfire. It doesn’t make the ground any softer. It doesn’t make the bugs stay out of their sleeping bags. None of the children like the woods serving as their toilet especially after their second poison oak scare. They still try to make the best of it.

“I’ll start a fire!” Sasuke waves a piece of flint rock in the air. Mikoto reminds him to be careful. They don’t want any more clothing getting singed.

“_Hey_, I wanted to start the fire!” Suigetsu slams his pack on the ground with as much force as he can muster. Extra kunai clatter to the ground and his water bottle rolls off into the brush.

Karin gathers up Suigetsu’s spilled back before Mikoto can and is rewarded with a smile. Karin grins back and bats her eyelashes. “Miss. Mikoto, I can set traps, so we don’t get wild animals coming into camp.”

“That sounds lovely, sweetie.”

Suigetsu jumps up and down in fitful stomps. “I wanted to do that!”

“Why don’t you help me pitch the tent?” Mikoto offers.

Suigetsu isn’t listening. He doesn’t want to help pitch the tent or trail after anyone else doing their jobs. If he’s going to be helping, its going to be on his own terms. He snatches his water bottle away from Karin and picks up a few kunai for the road. “Well, I’ll get a rabbit! I’ll catch it and skin it and everything, so we can have something good to eat.”

Mikoto imagines bony Suigetsu running into a bear or mountain lion.

She tries to let him down easily.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea. You shouldn’t go alone.”

“I used to hunt for my own food all the time in Kiri.” Suigetsu waves her off and shoves Sasuke when he stands to follow. Sasuke pretends he isn’t bothered, turning up his nose and going back to chipping away at his flint. Karin helpfully tosses him more kindling, but Suigetsu kicks the small pile of leaves. He only laughs when Mikoto gives him a reprimanding look.

Suigetsu waves before he dashes off into the forest. “I’ll get something good don’t worry about it!”

The forest holds no fear for Suigetsu. He’s spent most of his life along the coastline, but trees don’t scare him. It feels secluded and closed in so far from the ocean, but it’s just a new adventure. He struts through the trees like the woodland is his own personal kingdom. The day will come when he has his own perfect sword but for now a long sturdy stick serves him well enough. In a place as deserted and dense as this, there must be treasure of some sort. He heard a story once from an old crone telling tales on the streets. She said some pirates got the idea to head inland to hide their treasure, burying it where other men would fear to tread. Suigetsu is not such a man. He counts himself among the bravest of men: the time he found a centipede in his sleeping bag notwithstanding.

Suigetsu runs without caring what might be hiding under the leaves. All he cares for is the cool wind on his face, and the tickle of grass on his toes. There is nothing to fear out here. Bears live in caves, and mountain lions aren’t real. At least, Suigetsu doesn’t _think_ they’re real. Who’d ever heard of a lion living in the mountains? He hasn’t. Suigetsu fears jellyfish more than any mangy old cat. He’d beat any grumpy teddy bear with only one kunai and an arm tied behind his back. Out of the three children, he knows without question he’s the strongest. Karin and Sasuke wouldn’t dare run off on their own. He’ll prove to all of them he doesn’t need to do their dumb jobs, not when he’s the one providing the food.

Now he just needs to find a good fat rabbit to kill.

“Excuse me, are you lost?”

Suigetsu raises his stick, ready to strike, spinning around wildly for the source of the voice. “_Rabbit_?”

The voice replies. “No, I’m not a rabbit.” A bright head of orange hair peeks out from behind a tree.

The head is attached to a tall boy. Shallow cheeked with dark circles under his eyes, he wears an overcoat too big for him as it drags against his ankles. He wouldn’t look out of place among the abandoned orphans of Kiri if he just got the doe eyed look off his face. The boy fidgets in place and won’t meet Suigetsu’s eyes. A kid like him would’ve been eaten alive in Kiri.

“Get going then! I’m hunting and I don’t need you scaring all the animals away.”

The boy gives the stick in Suigetsu’s hand, and lack of fresh game a critical look. Suigetsu thinks the scrutiny is the boy being in awe of his strength, but he isn’t. The boy replies. “You don’t seem to be very good at hunting.”

Suigetsu bares his teeth and growls with all his might. The tall boy jumps and hides behind the tree like it will protect him. Suigetsu gnashes and clanks his teeth. “I’m a man eater! I’ll eat the flesh off your bones!”

“You’re not big enough!” the boy’s trembling gives away any weak façade of confidence.

“Am so! You get the arteries first to make sure it’s good and dead. Then it’s time to tear into the juicy meat!” Suigetsu pats his stomach, “yummy, ain’t it!”

The boy trembles, digging his nails into the tree bark. It seems funny, until the trembling intensifies. Suigetsu chuckles, pretending to be unfazed, but the ominous markings appearing on the boy’s neck to bother him a bit. They’re black and lined with a glow amplifying the hint of madness in the boy’s eyes.

The boy grits his teeth, “Don’t come near me.”

Suigetsu considers taking the warning, but he’s too curious for his own good. “Why not?”

“_I’ll kill you_.”

The ferocity in those words dry his throat, but Suigetsu can’t look like a coward. Even if the soft cheeked kid is tall and looks like he’ll make good on his threat, he can’t be _that_ tough.

“I’m stronger.” Suigetsu parries and slashes his stick-sword through the air. He flexes his arms and shoots him a grin. “You might not know this, living in the woods and all, but I’m one of the strongest guys out there.”

The boy begs as the markings slowly recede beneath his collar. “Go away. Go away. _Go away_.”

There’s something wrong with that kid. Suigetsu scratches his neck and sighs. Karin’s going to make fun of him for coming back empty handed, but he can’t just leave some messed up kid alone in the forest. He’s probably a hermit: a hermit with issues.

“Look, I’ll go get…uh…. Mikoto. See, I’ve been traveling with this lady, and she’s not my mom, but she’s real nice. Just stay here and I’ll go get her. She’ll know what to do.”

The boy isn’t listening. He slides to the ground and covers his ears with his hands. Suigetsu listens to his soft begging. Go away, please, go away: repeated over and over.

Mikoto wouldn’t want him to leave someone in pain all by themselves, especially a kid.

She doesn’t let any of them suffer alone.

Suigetsu sets his stick next to the kid, and tries not to flinch when he growls, lower and deeper than anyone his age should be able.

“I’ll be right back, okay.”

This time as Suigetsu makes his way back through the trees towards camp, he runs.

Suigetsu figures strangling both Karin and Sasuke wouldn’t put him in Mikoto’s good books, but it would get him back to the hermit boy faster. Shoving Sasuke out of the way again when he broke through the trees probably didn’t help, but as soon as he spouted his tale, they refused to believe it. Mikoto listened intently, but the doubt showed clearly on the other children’s faces.

Sasuke dusts off his shorts, “Quit lying. Why would some kid be in the woods?”

“He just wants attention, duh!” Karin crinkles her nose, as she glares with narrowed eyes. “He didn’t even catch anything. Some hunter you are!”

Usually Suigetsu would try to knock that wrinkled nose off her face, but there isn’t time. The kid might’ve run by now, and Suigetsu promised to bring Mikoto back. He tugs on Mikoto’s sleeve and tries to pull her along, not caring if he looks childish. He yells, “Is so! Is so! Is so! There’s a kid and I think there’s something wrong with him, so he needs help!”

“Liar, liar, liar!” Karin teases.

Mikoto sets her hands on Suigetsu’s shoulders before he can throw fists at Karin.

“Now, now. War, famine, disease: all these things can separate a village. When many orphans find themselves wandering rural areas, they’ll try their luck in the forests then risk stealing from farms. Life in the city is just as hard. It’s hard for any child to make their way alone.”

Suigetsu looks up at her with dewy eyes. “You believe me, don’t ya?”

She nods. “Why don’t we go see go see this boy.”

* * *

Suigetsu had no reason to lie about a boy in the woods, but Mikoto had expected a bit more when she heard of strange markings and bloodthirsty eyes. The boy sits hunched over, knees pulled to his chest, with only spiky orange hair peeked out from under his arms. He’s a bit older than the other kids, but not by much. She doesn’t see the rage threatening to boil over Suigetsu described. He trembles, but in fear rather than anger.

Mikoto sits down in front of him as the other children keep their distance. “Suigetsu told me you might need some help. Are you alright?”

He shrugs, but Mikoto sees an eye peeking out from under his arms. He’s listening.

“My name’s Mikoto. What’s yours?”

Suigetsu points at himself and his respective companions. “I’m Suigetsu ‘case you didn’t know, and those weirdos are Karin and Sasuke.”

The boy looks up. He is suspicious and rightfully so, but he still answers her. “Juugo.”

“What a stern name for one so young! It’s still a nice name though.” She notices the thinness to his cheeks and asks. “Have you eaten at all today?”

“Chewed on some herbs—I hadn’t gotten to it yet. There’s a berry bush a while back.”

“That’s not nearly enough for a growing boy. We set up camp a bit to the east. You could come and eat with us if you would like. You’ll never grow into your coat eating berries.”

Juugo sheepishly looks at the ground.

He probably will not ever grow into it. The coat is raggedy with frayed edges and torn threads, hanging off his shoulders; he practically drowns in it. Juugo is already a tall child, but the coat is one made for a full-grown man. The musty scent, like sitting water, and spots of cooper-brown staining the fabric tells of its origin.

Even now with no official war going on, corpse robbing is still one of the best ways to get supplies. Amour and weapons can be sold. Rations and medical supplies are found by the lucky. During the war, plundering the battlefield corpses was risky business. Innocent people could find themselves labeled a bloodline thief. Sealing scrolls wouldn’t be wasted on large groups of dead, only small groups of scouts or the high ranking. Those who could use Earth jutsu quickly dug mass graves for their comrades. The Uchiha always set their battlefields ablaze, but not before looking for any supplies that could be recovered. Most think corpse robbing unseemly, but the dead have no need for such things.

What use can a corpse get out of a coat? Perfectly good sandals would only go to waste on the feet of the dead.

“It’s a bit lonely here by yourself isn’t it?”

“Please, go away.” Juugo pleads. “please, please, please, go away!”

“Now why would I do that? You’ll be all alone out here if I did.” Mikoto reaches out for him, but he jerks away. She slowly lowers her hand and gives him space as he starts to tremble.

He whimpers against his knees, “_I don’t want to hurt anyone_.”

“I won’t let you.”

Juugo startles at the resolve in Mikoto’s voice. She states it like a fact. She believes it whole heartedly. If the child doesn’t want to hurt anyone, she will not let him. She will stop him. She couldn’t stop her eldest son from hurting anyone. The thought of him, ill and alone, tugs at her heart, but every time she lingers on it, she just as quickly shoves the thought away. She doesn’t want to think about it. She can‘t afford to think about it.

By what Suigetsu said, she assumes Juugo has a bloodline, unmanaged and with no one to teach him how to manage it. The boy believes he must be alone or those around him will get hurt.

Why would a gentle child like him think that?

Fugaku claimed their eldest was a gentle child. He did so in life until the moment of his death.

Mikoto once saw a gentleness in him, but it was always overpowered by his potential for cruelty.

He lied easily and without thinking. As any perfect shinobi, lies were his bread and butter. He weaved them so easily they could be mistaken for truth. He swung a blade without a second of hesitation. Mikoto knew there was much she didn’t even know about her son, shoved out before she could peek into that vast mind of his, but there had been times he worried her. They all were shinobi, but they were more than that too. She didn’t think her son was anything but.

There was gentleness when he cradled his newborn baby brother, still somewhat innocent and wide eyed. So shyly he entered the room, Fugaku coaxing him to Mikoto’s bedside. He poked his newborn brother’s cheek and looked to his parents for guidance when baby Sasuke started to cry. Mikoto prayed her two sons would love one another, be the friend and guide her siblings were for her, but it was not enough.

Her eldest son had the potential to be gentle, but the world they live in crushed it long before it could grow. Their village crushed it. Mikoto admits to herself she and her husband played a part in smothering the kindness before it could blossom. They handed him over to the village and pushed him to be great. He chose to be a villain, thinking himself a hero, all for the village’s sake.

Fugaku claimed once he hated violence.

He’d been a medic in his youth but set it aside for the police force. Mikoto hadn’t thought to ask about it, but she remembers his night terrors. He’d wake up shivering. He turned over every time to sob into his pillow to muddle the sound, occasionally getting up to hide in the bathroom. He told her, after Uchiha Manju had a bad run in with ANBU, he hated violence. He hated cradling mothers when they collapsed upon seeing the bodies of their sons. He hated the screams that wretched from their throats. He hated the sight of blood. She asked him why he fought then if he hated it so much and he answered it with an easy chuckle. For the village and clan, of course.

Mikoto never considered herself very gentle. She doesn’t revel in violence, but neither is she outright opposed to it. Her parents raised an exemplary shinobi. She’d wondered what the villagers, old friends, said after they presumed her dead. People tend to talk after a woman dies, especially if she was a mother. They talk about how sweet and kind she was in life, a good woman gone too soon. They’re always _good women_ once their gone. They will remember a kind girl who grew into a beautiful woman. Mikoto never once thought of herself as very sweet. Her brothers called her as vindictive and vicious as they come. Fugaku wouldn’t look her in the eye on their wedding night out of fear he’d accidentally insult her.

Still, the people she wants to hurt have committed grievous crimes. She takes no pleasure in harming innocents, she tries not to.

Maybe there will come a day none of them have to hurt anyone.

Mikoto stretches out her hand once more to Juugo. He glances uneasily at Suigetsu, Karin, and Sasuke, but Suigetsu grins as wide as he can. Karin and Sasuke get elbow jabs until they are smiling too.

This time, Juugo doesn’t move away.

He takes her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to rewrite eight hundred words because my computer updated, but the document didn't save, and only an older version was recovered, but I still think the chapter came out okay. Team Taka is all together now! That means moving onto next part of the story and I'm excited for where it's going to go.


	14. Itachi's Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why not kill them all...they didn't understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to work on an update for Let Us Live, but wrote this instead.  
(Warning for death and violence, I haven't really done that, but feel like I should here)

The little puddle of blood in his hand, cupped by his palm, doesn’t seem like it’s his. It doesn’t feel like it came from his mouth. He can still taste the copper on his tongue, feel the wet weight on his lips like a macabre lipstick. It still doesn’t feel like it’s his.

Even as the coughing wracks his chest in burning heaves, even as something as innocuous as sleeping makes his chest tighten, even as fever makes him shake into the long nights: it doesn’t feel like it’s happening to him.

It can’t happen to him. He has too much to do. There isn’t time.

He can’t afford to be sick.

Itachi shivers as the cold seeps into his skin. Everything seems colder now. Wind sneaks readily under his clothes, under the thick Akatsuki cloak, caressing him with sharp nails that tingle after each trail. The bit of blood is still warm, but he thinks it’s chilling from the iciness of his hand. He must be warm, on the inside, his rising temperature and the blood are the only clues, but he must be. It still feels cold.

Itachi slowly dumps the blood from his hand, and watches the rain wash it into the dirt. It swirls into the muddy puddles, red fading into brown and grey.

Maybe it’s not there. If he washes the stain from his hand and ignores the throbbing in his chest maybe he can pretend. It can’t be there. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t need it.

Kisame doesn’t say anything about the blood. There’s a mumbled comment about foolish children but he still stops to get them out of the rain.

Itachi considers telling him he isn’t a foolish child. He is not foolish. He is not a child. Kisame wouldn’t listen and fighting him isn’t an option. Itachi can’t get rid of him because of his duty. He can’t ruin the mission. Hoshigaki Kisame is strong anyway. He wouldn’t go down easily. A simple admonishment means nothing. Itachi is not foolish. He is not a child. He’s long outgrown out of childish things. He’s never needed them, not like others. He’s never been a fool.

Kisame chuckles. “You gonna keep pouting with that sour look on your face or you going to get some rest? We’re not going to make good pace to Grass at this rate.”

Kisame knows nothing. He’s the fool. There isn’t time.

Itachi grits his teeth and turns away, ignoring Kisame’s soft laugh. They take shelter from the rain under a porch awning. Kisame twists the water out of his coat and frightens a clerk when they ask for a room. Itachi doesn’t bother with it. He hates the night. No matter if he’s lying on a soft futon, or the forest floor, he doesn’t want to sleep. He wants to slit Kisame’s throat, so he’ll stop laughing. It always seems like he’s laughing. Kisame denies it when Itachi accuses him of it. Occasionally, his polite conversation is soothing enough. He forgets and feels like he could respect Kisame. They’re similar. They both betrayed those closest to them for the sake of their villages. The village comes first. He almost thinks they have a peaceful companionship until Kisame reminds him otherwise.

He sees blood dripping down Kisame’s neck. A gaping wound with red marring the blue of his skin. A blink sweeps it away. It’s not real. He can’t kill Kisame. He tries to focus on something else. He sees blood down Uncle Masato’s neck. A gaping wound as he gargles his last breath. Masato falls to his knees in front of Itachi. He killed Uncle Masato. A blink sweeps it away.

It doesn’t matter. They didn’t understand. They know nothing. They’re fools.

Itachi curls up into his futon, like his close limbs will stave off the chill. Kisame always orders an extra blanket, and Itachi pretends he isn’t insulted. He isn’t angry. He doesn’t get angry, not like _them_. The room is quiet, with only Kisame’s soft snores to fill it. The footsteps of the other patrons and the housekeepers are too loud. It doesn’t anger him though. He’s not like _them_. He wouldn’t kill over nothing. He doesn’t have the same hatred as _they_ did.

Kisame always says the world is filled with lies. You don’t need add more, he says.

What does he know?

He’s a man who revels in violence. Kisame’s sword thrives on their enemies’ pain. He’d let every fight drag out if Itachi let him. Itachi knows Kisame’s ruthlessness has a place in their world, but he doesn’t have the same tastes.

He hates violence.

Kisame scoffs whenever he gets scolded for unnecessary violence. Itachi the clan killer doesn’t need to concern himself with such things, he says. What does he know? Itachi hates violence. He hates war. He knows he does. Kisame doesn’t understand.

It was for the best. Itachi the clan killer was the path with the least bloodshed. Aunt Akimomo pleaded for her children’s lives, clutching her swollen stomach. Itachi already knew the other children, his little cousins, were hidden in a space underneath the floorboards. It had to be done. There was no other way. They shook with tears in their eyes, but they didn’t understand.

Some of the clan tried to fight. Foolish. Many tried to run. Foolish. There wasn’t any other way. Why didn’t they understand that? Why couldn’t they accept that?

Itachi doesn’t understand it, and he doesn’t think he wants to. Don’t they love the village? They couldn’t have, not like he does. They don’t care about peace. They couldn’t have. They wouldn’t have tried to run if they did. What did Koko’s baby matter? Grandpa Sengen knew too much. The Uchiha police officers were in the way. It was their own fault. They made him do it. They didn’t understand. Father always said to not let other’s decide things for his life. His sword dug into his father’s kimono. Ribs broke before piercing his heart. He didn’t want to do it. They made him. He had to. The village knows best. They needed to understand.

It’s for peace. For Sasuke. This is for Sasuke. It’s all for Sasuke.

_Where is Sasuke? _

He needs him. Sasuke must live. He can be a hero. He must kill Itachi. He must.

Itachi had the perfect plan. He would’ve said. “_To test my abilities._” Yes, that would’ve worked. They didn’t even test him, not really. They couldn’t. It was too easy. There wasn’t another option, but it was still so easy. Itachi feels a smile tugging at his lips and doesn’t know why. It was too easy. It’s almost funny how easy it was. He’s always been the strongest. The strongest are the only ones who can keep peace. The burning in his chest aches, and his eyes itch. The futon is itchy, but he ignores it. It doesn’t matter, none of it matters. He had the perfect plan. Sasuke could’ve been set on the right path. He doesn’t need to know the truth. He wouldn’t understand. He knew nothing. Sasuke needs to live.

But _she_ lived.

She lives. She took Sasuke away.

Not part of the plan.

Itachi wonders why he’s shaking. It’s not even a fever, but his muscles tremble and he doesn’t know why. His jaw aches from clenching. He moves it side to side, trying to be quiet so not to wake Kisame. The little clicks probably won’t wake him, but he doesn’t want to take any chances. Kisame will ask if he’s okay. Polite and curious, he’ll ask, and it’ll make the tight rage in Itachi’s stomach come back. He doesn’t get angry. He doesn’t hate. He can’t. He needs to be calm. To be calm, to think. He can think through this. He always has.

Not part of the plan.

Not part of the plan.

Not part of the plan.

He had a perfect plan.

_She ruined it. _

_Why didn’t she die? Why didn’t she understand?_

_Mother. _

The word tastes bitter. Her hands shoving his chest, his shoulder slamming into a support beam as his body tore through the paper screen. That night, he’d been surprised for that moment. He didn’t know if he should’ve chased her, killed her, and then continued. He’d been too surprised. Why didn’t she die? Why didn’t she understand? She always seemed to go along with what her husband said, a perfect wife, so why couldn’t she die for her son’s sake.

Was he not good enough?

Did she not love him enough? Itachi thinks she must not have. If she did, she would’ve died. She had another son, one without bloodied hands, to love. Did she love Sasuke more? She must’ve not even tried to love him: her perfect eldest son. He did everything right. Itachi digs his nails into his palm. She didn’t understand.

Another woman’s corpse, with a passing resemblance and a mutilated face, helped cover up the mistake. Itachi imagined his mother as he carved up the woman’s skin. Why did she run? His plan was ruined. Akimomo was too pregnant and plumper besides. Uncle Naozumi looked much like his sister, but a crippled man would be easily discovered in the ruse. None of them could’ve worked as covers. The woman he used he didn’t know. But she had long dark hair, and a slender body. It worked well enough. He met with the Hokage before fleeing and said nothing. None of them knew his mother lived. No one needed to know.

Maybe he should have told.

He still doesn’t know why he didn’t. The village should know.

Maybe he should kill her himself, take Sasuke back, and then get his plan back on track. He’d need to find her first, but she doesn’t matter. Sasuke needs to live. The day will come when he must die, and Sasuke must be the one to kill him. He needs to get the plan back on track.

But it probably wouldn’t even work now, too many variables have changed.

_It’s all her fault._

He doesn’t know where he went wrong. His mother was soft. She reassured Sasuke when he doubted their father’s love. She hummed as she washed the dishes and smiled when her husband came home. There was a look in her eyes when she looked at Itachi, and he didn’t understand. It reminded him a bit of Kisame. It brought the blood back. It was sticky and tangled her hair, so much like his own, and stained her smooth skin.

He remembered her hands cradling his face as he rested his head against her stomach. He was small, and Sasuke was growing there. He wanted a baby brother, and he got a baby brother. His mother told him to love his brother. His father told him to love his brother. His father shook him after he grabbed Sasuke’s throat during a training session. He shoved him first. The wood floor squeaked as his little brother’s forehead slid against it. Never do something like that again, his father warned. Sasuke had been watching them spar with his stuffed dinosaur on his lap before their father called him over. A couple members of the clan were watching. They chuckled in amusement at the baby taking the floor. One man wasn’t even taking a break from sparring. He was playing cards on the floor, like an unsuitable shinobi. 

Sasuke stood in front of their father with a firm resolve. Itachi didn’t see why. He could never do what Itachi could. Father and Mother both said he was only three. Sasuke stumbled and knocked his chubby fist against their father’s thigh. After that, he clung to their father’s leg and grinned up at him. That wasn’t a fight at all.

Their father huffed a small laugh. He knelt to Sasuke’s height and moved his legs into a steadier stance.

Sasuke didn’t need to know those things. Why should he endure violence so young? Wasn’t Itachi enough? Itachi fought hard at every moment, trained the hardest, he gave it his all when sparring with his father. He was firstborn. He could endure. He would become strong enough to bring about peace, and fight so Sasuke didn’t have to.

Itachi shoved him to make him stop. When Sasuke tried to stand, he grabbed him by his throat, thin like a bird’s, and threw him back onto the ground. His father grabbed him by his shoulders and demanded an explanation. _Why did you do that?_ Itachi blinked at him unsure why his name, called over and over, sounded like it was through water. The clan members watching muttered to one another, and Itachi saw the looks of disgust shot his way. As harsh as Ryuichi, they whispered. The comment made his father frown. They didn’t matter. They didn’t get it. One woman picked up Sasuke, holding him against her chest, and ran to find his mother.

Sasuke cried, deep snotty sobs, and didn’t understand why his big brother hurt him. Father scolded Itachi for being cruel.

They didn’t understand.

He stared at his mother, and hoped she understood. She listened when he told her how annoying it was when Sasuke kept putting toys on his bed. He didn’t need toys. She listened when he said he didn’t want steak for dinner, even when anyone else asked for it.

He stared at her. She stared back. He doesn’t know what she saw, when she looked at him, but she must not have understood.

If she loved him, understood him, she would’ve died.

She should’ve died, like a good mother.

Good mothers understand. Don’t they? Good mothers don’t betray their sons.

She’s a gentle woman. Itachi knows it. Her thin shoulders, and soft stomach aren’t that of a warrior. Uchiha Mikoto is a mother. She let Sasuke trail behind her as she balanced a laundry basket on her hip. Dinner was always ready whenever he or his father came home. She gossiped with her sister and visited their clan members to see how they were doing. She wore long flowing skirts, and kimonos perfect for Sasuke to hide his face in. Sasuke screaming if he got himself into trouble always sent her running. Even if it was just a creepy looking frog or too high stairs, their mother ran to his rescue like it was an army of enemies ready to tear him to shreds.

Why didn’t she understand?

Itachi pulls his blankets close to his chin and imagines his mother doing it. She’d kiss his forehead and brush her fingers through his bangs.

He stabbed her through the back and the blood soaked her cotton dress. She got back up and didn’t die.

Father and Mother let Sasuke sleep in their bed when he was small. When he got older, Itachi managed to coax his little brother to let him comfort him instead. He loved his little brother. He’d keep him safe.

Itachi sometimes peeked into their room, making sure to be silent. If he didn’t walk quiet enough, he’d be caught. Sasuke and his stuffed animal slept soundly in between their parents. Father slept on his side with one arm under his head. Mother slept on her back with one arm on top of Sasuke. He’d watch the rise and fall of their chests and wonder if he should go in.

It always felt like he shouldn’t; like he was intruding.

_Do you not think me noble, Mother? _

It doesn’t matter anyway. He doesn’t need that. Sleep won’t come easy, but it’s only because of the fluid raking his lungs. He aches, and it won’t go away. The new medicine isn’t working that well.

Itachi doesn’t get nightmares.

He isn’t a child. He will protect Sasuke. The village is right.

Kisame says if you tell a lie often enough you might start to believe it.

What does he know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapter outline numbering is messed up now, but I decided to move onto Itachi's POV for this chapter before moving on from the Taka team gathering. I'm trying to make sense of Itachi in part one and Itachi in part two into some semblance of cohesion and this is what came of it.


	15. Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all have things to learn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Nearly six months. Did not intend for that, but things are hectic in general. Thank you for reading and commenting still! This chapter just seemed harder to write, but I think it will go better in the coming.

Juugo is a boy of dual faces.

On one hand, he’s shy and unsure. He ducks his head when Karin compares his eyes to pomegranates. Any kind and comforting word is taken with a nod and flushed cheeks. He hesitates to answer when Mikoto asks him what he’d like to eat. Sasuke asks him to train, but he always refuses. All the children try to include him in their games, but most attempts fall flat. Juugo isn’t the type to voice his wants easily, so Mikoto is forced to try and pry it out of him. He’s unfussy and sweet as can be— until something strikes his temper. 

Working up his temper is like tossing a match on gasoline. 

The other side of Juugo is much harsher. There’s an uncontrollable rage that builds as odd markings envelop his body. His body changes and contorts, filling with natural chakra, into any weapon of his choice. Axes are his current favorite, but he’s partial to war hammers as well.

Something as innocuous as Suigetsu pestering him can trigger his hairline temper. A simple teased question about Juugo’s height can end in Mikoto dragging him outside before he causes more property damage than they can afford to pay.

Taking care of all four children is hard work. She worries her own son feels left out, her attention spread further than ever. Every time she asks him again and again, he assures her he’s fine. He says it’s like having friends. All the children are still trying to adjust to one another and adding Juugo to the mix throws off the dynamic the other three struggled to forge. She wants Juugo to feel safe and secure among them, but it’s difficult.

He’s afraid he’ll hurt others, with that rage that has nowhere to go but out.

Kushina had been the same. It wasn’t the bijuu that gave her a ferocious temper, but the fear didn’t help. Mikoto had seen the abrasive red chakra of the Kyuubi, when it swirled it was always followed by an underlying rage that permeated thick in the air. It was a matter of control: controlling emotions, especially anger, and controlling the demon inside. Everyone harped on Kushina about control, and she worked hard to keep the Kyuubi reined. She worried herself sick, that one day, her control wouldn’t be enough.

Mikoto could never fault her for it, but the release of the Kyuubi only made Kushina’s fears a reality.

Juugo has a power he can’t control, same as she, but he can learn. Mikoto will help him, protect him, and if he can’t manage himself her eyes can do it for him.

Kushina learned to be strong. She learned to be strong and sure, and Juugo can too. He just needs a bit of help, and with them he can get it.

Traveling is harder with four children, but they still manage.

The urge to stop and just rest comes up every now and then, but Mikoto tries to ignore it. Seeing Shikaku only made it worse. After his mission was over, he would get to go back home. He gets to go to a comfortable house, to a warm bed, and a welcoming family. His wife, Yoshino, will help him out of his mission gear, and his son will ask about questions about his mission to no avail. There would be no looking over his shoulder or scrambling for food. At home, he’ll be safe. He’ll feel the relief every Konoha shinobi feels upon seeing the towering red gates surrounding their village. News from Konoha doesn’t help at all. Word’s going around that the Sarutobi boy will be returning home soon too. After many years of clashing with his father, he left to serve among the Twelve Guardian Shinobi. Like many of the Hokage’s favored, he wanted off without consequence. Now, he gets to come home.

They all can go home, while her home is gone forever.

It’s a bitter thought, a constant ache, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. They can only keep moving for now. Home means little when they must keep hidden.

People she meets often ask why she even bothered to take the children in when she already has enough on her plate. She doesn’t only have one child, her own, to care for but four bloodline children. Three different bloodline children that aren’t even her own, and yet she continues to treat them like they are. It’s hard for anyone to understand, but some with bloodlines of their own look at her with knowing eyes. They know what happened and _could_ happen to any of them. Look at the Uzumaki. Look at the Hatake. Look at all the Kaguya.

_Did you hear what happened to the Uchiha? _

It’s a cycle of loss none of them seem able to escape.

Some people separate themselves, hiding away in hopes that will be enough, but some huddle close to those who are left. They hope and pray that maybe they’ll all be safer together. That maybe everything will be better if they look out for one another.

It’s still not enough.

Mikoto knows she alone isn’t enough. No matter how hard she trains, how strong she tries to be, she can’t always protect the children from every danger. In the world they live in, they must be able to protect themselves.

Her children must be ready too.

Sasuke is skilled there’s no doubting that. He was always at the top of his class. He probably would’ve been the top rookie had he graduated; already ten years old and close to standard graduation age. His brother graduated after only one year in the academy, but Sasuke isn’t his brother. He doesn’t need to be. Sasuke is intelligent in his own right, but he still needs to work hard and train to the best of his ability.

Mikoto claps her hands with a smile, “Training time!”

Suigetsu and Sasuke cheer as Karin groans her disagreement. She tries to get out of any and all training, and even Sasuke’s encouragement doesn’t do much to motivate her. Suigetsu has his lazy days, but he’s usually excited to have help with training. He’s rambunctious enough that even having him run laps isn’t hard. It gets his energy out. But sometimes Mikoto regrets stealing him a short sword. He’s still in the habit of swinging it as if it were a long stick.

The biggest problem for Karin is she doesn’t consider herself a combatant. No amount of encouragement can give her the vigor Suigetsu has to take up the blade. Mikoto tries to be understanding and doesn’t force her to spar, but Karin must run laps and do push-ups just like everyone else.

Juugo’s not much of a fighter either unless he’s in a rage, but he doesn’t get out of training time either.

Before the massacre, she had never sparred with either of her children. She’d never wanted to, and it was never expected of her. Her children were meant to be strong shinobi, but fighting their own mother wasn’t part of that. Sasuke was her baby to be coddled, and she knew she coddled him. She had never allowed any of the older clan children to spar with him. Some of her clansmen would chuckle and call her overprotective, but she didn’t care. The only spars she had allowed were under the watchful eye of his academy teacher. His brother was the exception, not even his father. Fugaku had never asked, and Mikoto knew he wouldn’t, but she still wouldn’t have allowed it.

“Again.” She says, “keep your elbows in this time.”

Now, there’s no time nor place for such coddling.

Sasuke falls backwards into the dirt after a good sweep to the knees. He’s fairly evenly matched when he spars Suigetsu, but what he needs is to fight someone bigger and more experienced. No matter how long it takes. Itachi might not wait until he’s taller and stronger. Mikoto wishes he could soothe the constant frustration in his brow with placating words, but that can’t be her role anymore.

“Again.”

Mikoto waits for Sasuke retake his stance before she strikes again. The Uchiha fighting style is based around speed and agility. Stretches help, but they only go so far. Dodging, falling properly, and throwing a proper hit are best learned in a practical setting.

“Again!”

Suigtesu sips his water bottle as he leisurely squats. Up and down over and over; the straw doesn’t once jostle out from between his teeth. Juugo helps Karin with her sit-ups. He holds her feet and tries to coax her into trying to do them well. Lifting her head off the ground doesn’t count as a crunch, let alone a sit-up. They all glance at the sparring pair on occasion but know better than to interfere. Breaking Sasuke’s concentration is a surefire way to earn his ire.

“Faster.”

“Faster!”

“Again!”

_“Faster!”_

It helps to put everything to the back of her mind. She can’t focus on who she’s fighting. If Mikoto thinks too hard on it, she’ll pull punches and want to stop. She can’t. Sasuke needs to learn. He can’t if she wavers. Her own qualms can’t get in the way. Her eldest son won’t worry about hurting his little brother. He had no issue butchering their clan. He killed his father without question. One little boy can’t mean more than all the others. There won’t be any mercy from that boy. Sasuke can’t afford to be weak. He needs to be strong. He needs to _learn_. 

He _has to _survive.

He must live. He must live. He must live. He must live.

Konoha won’t care if he’s just a boy. Her eldest son won’t care if Sasuke isn’t ready to face him.

To be strong, he must learn.

It doesn’t occur to her Sasuke’s struggling to keep up with her. She doesn’t notice the sweat soaking his shirt, or the quivering of his arms. Not until he doesn’t dodge fast enough. Sasuke collapses backwards with a hard hit to the chest, gasping as the air is knocked from his lungs. Karin rushes over nearly knocking over Juugo in the process. All the children crowd around him as it takes Mikoto a moment to come back to herself. When she does, she drops to her knees and tries to pull Sasuke close to her. He swears as his injuries are jostled and Mikoto can’t even scold him for it.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.” Mikoto holds him as well as she can. He seems to get taller with each passing day. She presses her cheek against his head, and tenderly lifts his shirt to see the bruises on his chest. He hisses in pain at the slightest of movement. Mikoto immediately stops and kisses his sweaty forehead. “Mama didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s okay. I’m sorry, baby.”

Sasuke sighs, “I’m not a baby anymore. Don’t talk to me like I am! We’re training!”

She asks, “does it hurt a lot, sweetie?”

Sasuke huffs before relenting to his mother’s attention. “Some, but it’s okay, Mama.”

Karin rolls up her sleeve and sticks out her arm. “Here, I can help. Just bite down, okay.”

Sasuke glares at the bitemarks on her arms. Some scars are older, and deeper with the pale marks forming crescents on her skin.

“No, it hurts you! It’s okay. _I’m fine_.”  
Sasuke tries to stand to prove he’s _fine_, but he can’t even bring himself to his feet. He winces harshly and falls back down onto his mother’s lap. He lets Mikoto catalog every scape and bruise while he rubs at his tired eyes. Mikoto watches all the children stretch out their sore muscles and yawn. The guilt tastes sore, but she tries to swallow it back. As much as she wants them to be strong, as much as they need to be, they’re still children.

There was once another child who never came to her with his scaped knees or cuts from a mishandled shuriken. Never to be spoiled with his mother to wipe his tears. He strived to be strong, and strong he would be, no matter the cost. It never mattered that he was just a child.

No one else had cared, and the thought does nothing to ease the aching in Mikoto’s chest.

Mikoto picks up Sasuke, even though Juugo offers to carry him.

“That’s enough training for now.”

Pushing the children too hard won’t get them anywhere. Maybe they all need some good rest.

Somewhere safe to rest needs to come first.

She tries to think of the best place to go. Tala is always an option, but the proximity to Konoha unnerves Mikoto, especially with Shikaku knowing about her now. She doesn’t want to overburden any of their usual contacts. Farmers and small-time shopkeepers try their best, but a guest staying long isn’t financially viable, let alone five guests.

Fugaku had always told her history lessons, and she often zoned out during most of them. They just went on for so long. Fugaku’s older brother always…

Mikoto stops walking as an old memory comes back to her. “Oh!”

Suigetsu tugs on her sleeve, “Oh what?”

Fugaku—Fugaku’s brother, Ryuichi, died during the third shinobi war, leaving behind his beloved wife.

His widow is alive and well.

The headship fell to Fugaku in part to Ryuichi’s marriage among other things. She struggled with the clan’s lack of acceptance, and with Ryuichi dead there was nothing to keepher in Konoha. For all her faults, she’d just been a foolish girl. In life, his brother hated Fugaku so much as glancing at his wife, but she loved Ryuichi as much as he loved her. Fugaku kept in contact with her in honor of that. They hadn’t shared much in common, but letters filled with pleasantries were enough. Mikoto hadn’t known Ryuichi’s bride well. She’d only heard rumors of a woman who lived social dinners and fancy trips. Being raised in a wealthy family, she’d wanted for little and Ryuichi adored her still.

Fugaku had been writing letters to her still, not long before his death. He claimed she’d matured and was doing well.

She said should they ever need anything; her home was open to the Uchiha head family.

Family of Ryuichi’s was family of her’s, even if it those words made the ashes of Fugaku’s mother quiver in their urn.

Mikoto pats Suigetsu’s head, “I just remembered an old friend I think we should see.”

They can go to her. If anything, she won’t rat them out to any hidden villages.

She always claimed shinobi were an antiquated regrettable profession anyway.


	16. Widow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fugaku didn't talk much about his brother, let alone his brother's widow.

A tall wrought iron fence covered in vines with pink and purple blossoms greets them encircling the entire vast property. The gardener doesn’t even ask her name or introduce himself. He drops his sheers when he sees Mikoto and the children coming up the front path and sprints for the grand manor ahead.

Suigetsu eyes the sharp spikes atop the fence warily and asks, “they don’t like visitors around here do they?”

The gate creaks when Mikoto gingerly pushes it open. She ushers the children inside even as Sasuke tries to turn around and walk the other way.

“He may have recognized me. If not, many Uchiha are dark of hair and eyes. The Kagawa family used to be in the public eye often. They became more reclusive when many men of the family, including the head, were killed in a border conflict. Many of the cousins were daughters and married into other families. Now, the current head of the family lives a solitary life, or so I hear.”

Juugo tugs on her sleeve, “were the Kagawa shinobi?”

“No, sweetie.” She tells him. “Just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

The gardener nods his head politely when he meets them at the door, his cheeks red from the sprint inside and back out again. He glances at Karin and Suigetsu standing among the begonias lining the path not caring where they step. He outright stares at the canary sitting casually on Juugo’s shoulder but decides not to comment on any of it.

“This way please. Madam Kagawa is very pleased to have you and is quite eager to meet. She’s waiting in the foyer. We have slippers for guests in the coat room off to the side.”

Suigetsu asks what a foyer is, but Mikoto shushes him. She smiles at the gardener, a young soft faced man who blushes in response, and tells him they’re delighted.

The manor isn’t in the common traditional style popular in the Land of Fire and surrounding countries. Instead of fusuma painted with mountain ranges and herons there are thick cedar doors with detailing carved by an expert hand. Karin gapes at the sparkling chandelier hanging above their heads. Suigetsu whispers to Juugo that him and Sasuke are used to fancy stuff. His etiquette lessons embolden him, but Mikoto sees how gingerly he walks on the beautifully weaved rug. Mikoto shoves down any discomfort. The coat room itself is bigger than most bedroom’s she’d slept in.

The Kagawa certainly hadn’t let their prized daughter marry an Uchiha out of desire to move up in the world. The Uchiha had been in an economic slump even before the massacre crept up on them. Both clans allowed a marriage because their children were stubborn and sure of their love for one another. No one could get in the way of it.

A portrait, covering up much of the wall facing the entry way, depicts the late Uchiha Ryuichi and his wife in the spring of their youth. At the top of the staircase, Kagawa Yukari holds onto the bannister with one hand to steady herself. The shock is quickly wiped away from her face for a hospitable smile just as any lady of the house is raised to do.

Mikoto hadn’t ever really interacted with Yukari before. There hadn’t been any reason to, and as a girl the suggestion would’ve annoyed her. She’d only ever seen the clan heir and his brother in passing. The brother, her Fugaku, had been a self-conscious and reserved child. The clan heir avoided her out of dislike. She was the clan head’s favored, and everyone knew it. It only became more evident when Ryuichi fell out of favor further when he wed a spoiled girl. Fugaku had felt sympathy for the girl, but when she left Konoha upon Ryuichi’s death Mikoto hadn’t cared in the slightest.

She remembered Uchiha Toribana’s rants of ire about the girl and her air headed disrespect. The clan head believe Kagawa Yukari exerted far too much control over her son when she cared little for the Uchiha clan and their history. The clan head told anyone who would listen _that girl_ didn’t deserve their name.

As a young woman, Yukari giggled at the men and women dancing with fire racing at their heel and singing in their ancestral tongue. She called their religion pagan and superstitious myths. Yukari hadn’t understood many things, and in Konoha she wasn’t alone in that, but as the wife of the clan heir— she could’ve asked.

She’s older now with a carefully contained joy dancing behind her eyes. Time has done little to dampen her beauty. Her hair is still dark and thick tied up in an elegant bun. There are more lines around her warm amber eyes, but Mikoto supposes they all have more than they should. Yukari is dressed casually, or for what she considers casual, in a purple bustle gown with only a silver locket to adorn her neck.

Her voice trembles, “I never once thought an Uchiha would grace my home ever again.” She descends the stairs hesitantly, like she doesn’t fully believe what she’s seeing, but excitement shows in each step, “I am glad to have been proven wrong.”

Mikoto coaxes Sasuke forward and keeps her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. “No one can expect for anything really. I’m Mikoto, and this is my son Sasuke. My husband—my late husband, Fugaku, mentioned sending letters to you. Thank you for allowing us into your beautiful home.” She gestures to the other children and introduces them. “This is Suigetsu, Karin, and Juugo. They are not my blood children as Sasuke is, but they are in my care. They are not Uchiha but please allow them safe shelter here as well.”

“Of course, of course!” Yukari steps towards Mikoto and bows. “Forgive me. I’d forgotten my manners. I am Kagawa Yukari, and I hope you can find rest and comfort within my home. Please, let us speak somewhere more comfortable. The solarium is lovely this time of day. I’ll have my butler prepare some tea. Does jasmine suit you?”

“That is fine. Don’t trouble yourself.”

Yukari replies, “No trouble at all.”

Sasuke stares at Ryuichi’s portrait when they walk past it. Mikoto never thought the two brothers looked much alike. Ryuichi wore his lighter hair much shorter. His cheekbones were higher, more like his mother’s, with a sharper jaw. Looking at the portrait, she can see they had similar noses. They’re complexion, if the painter got it right, was the same too.

“That’s Father’s brother, right?” Sasuke asks.

“Uchiha Ryuichi was his elder brother.” Yukari says, “They didn’t really get along, but I know Ryuichi cared about him deep down. Fugaku might not have spoken of him much, but I can tell you some things about him if you’d like.”

Sasuke shrugs, but Yukari accepts the answer with a graceful smile.

Maybe Ryuichi cared deep down, but he certainly didn’t show it in life, not to Mikoto’s knowledge.

Fugaku spent much of his childhood in fear of his much older brother. Fugaku had been an unexpected child after years of trying for a spare. The age gap between the brothers didn’t give them much to bond over. Ryuichi, teenager when Fugaku was only a little boy, liked to see him squirm and teased him when he cried. Training sessions involved Fugaku fleeing from his brother more than any actual training. The incidents lessened as Fugaku grew older and taller, but Ryuichi never grew out of his talent for hitting Fugaku’s weak spots.

The first time Mikoto saw Fugaku panic to the point of vomiting had been during the first family dinner of their engagement. Ryuichi hadn’t brought his wife out of respect for his mother’s wishes, but to make up for it he dug into Fugaku’s every insecurity about his new position as clan head. He didn’t hold back on making snide remarks about his suitability as a husband either until Mikoto forced him to.

Fugaku thought his brother hated him. He didn’t know why, but from the time he was small he couldn’t recall Ryuichi ever having any affection for him. He didn’t know what he did besides being born, so he just accepted it for what it was. He tried to avoid him as much as possible until the war broke out. Throughout his life, Ryuichi hadn’t seemed to care one bit about his little brother.

That’s what made his death even more peculiar. An ambush wiped many Uchiha families from the clan ledger. Fugaku’s father had been among them. The regiment had been made up of civilian-born shinobi under Uchiha command. Many were orphans tossed onto the frontline. Fugaku’s platoon had joined with his father’s for a move closer to the Grass border. Not many would make it out alive.

Mikoto didn’t know much since getting the story out of Fugaku had been like pulling teeth. He couldn’t recall much himself. They brought him home still half-starved with fractured skull and a shattered leg. He was still out of it on pain medication for a while and spent most of his time sleeping. Coming in and out of consciousness didn’t do well for his memory. Mikoto quietly asked, as their futons laid side by side, how he could’ve survived.

Fugaku kept his eyes close. Migraines came with more frequency now, and sometimes nothing they did could make them go away.

He said he was knocked out. He took a blow to the head and everything went dark. When he came to, there was a heavy weight on his back. He didn’t know what happened to his leg, but he did his best to heal it before just trying to ignore the pain. It was quiet except for the cawing of crows. The air stank of blood and rot. Fugaku wanted to go home, so he needed to get up. He kept telling himself that. He just needed to move; to just get up and walk.

Their eldest had been a baby, still too small, struggling to force his little limbs into a crawl.

Fugaku wanted to go home.

When he forced himself to his feet, the weight fell off in a sickening moist thud.

Fugaku could only guess what happened. As Ryuichi was dying, he crawled to Fugaku’s unconscious body and covered his little brother with his own. Any enemy would take Fugaku for dead. Ryuichi’s stomach had been sliced open. His innards slipped out over Fugaku’s legs, soaking him in blood. Fugaku remembered vomiting even when he didn’t have much in his stomach to cough up. It was the smell that got him most: sour and rancid. He set the corpses ablaze, and then started walking, ignoring the coppery odor of burnt meat. 

He didn’t remember most of the journey except for throwing up from the pain, and falling a few times in the mud, but he eventually made it.

Mikoto didn’t ask the question burning on her tongue because she knew Fugaku didn’t know either. They could only guess why Ryuichi would try and protect his little brother.

Maybe he did care deep down.

An Uchiha alone is a terrible thing.

The children press their faces to the tall windows as they watch the gardener tend rows of rose bushes. The butler, an old man with a whiskered mustache, introduces himself as Mr. Takemori. He doesn’t even bat an eye when Suigetsu and Juugo raid his tea cart for the pastries with all the fervor of starved wolves.

“I have been employed by the Kagawa family since Madam was just a little girl. I shall do my utmost best to assist you within your stay at Madam Kagawa’s home.”

“I can’t even begin to put my condolences to you into words, Lady Uchiha.” Yukari fiddles with the locket around her neck. Mikoto had almost forgotten it was a gift from Ryuichi. On one side, held a loving picture of the couple, more casual than their official portrait. The other had the symbol of their clan embedded into the silver. “Takemori is right. Whatever help you need is yours.”

“I’ll think on the matter, but a safe place to stay is enough for us right now. And please—call me Mikoto. You were once Lady Uchiha as well there’s no need for such formalities.

Yukari hides a chuckle behind her hand. “We both know the clan never accepted me as Lady Uchiha. Ryu and I were young and in love. Sometimes that makes you blind. I didn’t really see it then, didn’t care, and neither did he. He was willing to throw away headship, all his responsibilities, just for us. Back then, I hadn’t seen anything wrong with it. I loved him, and I still do. I didn’t care about anything, not even his mother despising me, because I knew he’d stay with me regardless.”

“Ryuichi and I never got along, but even I could see how soft he got when he was around you.” Mikoto sips her tea and lets the familiar jasmine scent relax her. “Those worries seem almost silly now…I worried about falling out of Lady Toribana’s favor just like Ryuichi did, and his abdication was the biggest scandal since Hatake Sakumo’s failed mission.”

“Oh, I remember that! You know, I begged Ryuichi not to go. I told him to leave. I said we could go together, and he didn’t have to go fight in the war. It was the one thing he refused to give me. He said he had to. I’d never seen him show much loyalty to Konoha. He was pretty indifferent when it came to that. He said he needed to go because so many Uchiha shinobi were going. You and Fugaku, even though your son was just a baby, and his father and so many others.”

“The war cut down our numbers drastically, then people just started going missing, the massacre just seemed like the final straw. None of us wanted to see the sword coming down, so we tried to deal with it, and we failed.”

Karin and Sasuke try to covertly climb onto the settee and snuggle close to her on each side. Suigetsu and Juugo are too busy trying to coax a cat out from under the side table to care for the conversation. Mikoto puts down her tea and brings the two children closer to her. 

Yukari places her hand on top of Mikoto’s knee and asks. “What is it you plan to do for the future? After what the Leaf Village has done to you—will you always run?”

Mikoto can’t say for sure.

She lives for today, and the day after. She wants Konoha to pay but doesn’t know when she can make that happen. The future seems so unsure. The children need to be fed and kept safe.

Mikoto needs to make sure they all can have a future before she can know what to do with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited to write the next few chapters because soon Mikoto will be going to a familiar place.


	17. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A safe place provides rest and new hopes.

Mikoto lets Yukari braid her hair. She insists on it after dressing Mikoto in one of her fine silk nightgowns. It cascades over her skin like water. The children are tucked in and kissed goodnight in one of the guest rooms. Not wanting to offend their host, Mikoto doesn’t protest being treated like a doll. She isn’t sure how well she’ll sleep anyway. Instead of firm futons, Yukari’s home has large, raised beds with plush mattresses that conform to the body. All the children had been in awe. Most of them claim it’s like lying on a cloud. Juugo argues they’re wrong and it’s like a sheep. Suigetsu tries to pick a fight, but thankfully Sasuke stops it before it can start. Cloud or sheep, Mikoto doesn’t think any number of embroidered pillows will keep her back from aching come morning.

None of them are used to many extravagant material pleasures. They only possess what they can carry, and it always veers on the side of the practical. Yukari has always been a woman who thrives on life’s indulgences and she has no qualms about sharing it. She threads soft ribbon through Mikoto’s hair as she braids, and the gentleness of her hands are achingly familiar. Akimomo would string flowers into her little sister’s hair, careful not to tug or tangle the strands. It didn’t matter if they were no longer little girls. Even when her belly swelled with child after child, Momo would treat Mikoto gingerly as if she were still a gap-toothed toddler.

All her children would’ve seemed so big now. The oldest boy would’ve been nearly a man.

“I have a question I wish to confide in you, Mikoto.” Yukari says. “and I pray it does not insult you in any way.”

“If it’s about what I do with my hair it’s nothing.” Mikoto soothes down any hairs that try to escape from her finished braid. My mother says I was born with my black tresses and I shall die with them. My own father was barely starting to grey when he passed.”

“No, your hair is lovely, but it isn’t that.” Her voice is hesitant as she continues. “I want you to know that your absolutely welcome here. Know that I treasure the company, and I’m very glad you’re all safe. I just…I was curious I suppose. I wondered why you decided to come to me. I knew Fugaku didn’t have any ill will towards me, but I didn’t exactly leave the clan with a good impression. I’ve been thinking on it and I figured if you were to seek out anyone, you’d go to Hikomaru. He’s alive, isn’t he? Last I heard he was studying abroad...”

Mikoto freezes. She doesn’t notice Yukari sentence trail or off, or the comforting hand rubbing her back. She barely remembers to breathe.

Uchiha Hikomaru, Fugaku’s younger brother. Half brother to be exact, but that had never bothered Fugaku. Uchiha is Uchiha and family comes first.

Fugaku’s father, Uchiha Hyusuke, was the type of man who loved women and women loved him. His marriage to the Uchiha clan head didn’t impede his interest in other women at all. Easy going and with a natural charm he used to his full advantage, Hyusuke didn’t concern himself with either of his sons. Neither one held any amusement for him. The elder was his wife’s favorite, and he thought the younger boring. Mikoto heard rumors of both sons being sent to fetch their father only to find him between the legs of an unknown woman. He favored widows most. Hyusuke lived life with a passion for carnal pleasure that could annoy his wife when she wasn’t the focus of it.

Mikoto’s mother used to say it was a miracle he didn’t sire more children outside marriage, and some whispered and wondered the reasons around Hikomaru’s conception. Some said love, other’s said debt, some said favor to a friend—whatever the reason the boy spend his early life with his unmentioned mother and when Fugaku was a genin his father brought a younger brother into their home.

As a boy, Hikomaru cared little for Ryuichi’s haughty indifference. He’d throw himself at his much older brother in Fugaku’s defense. He’d climb onto Ryuichi’s back and pull his hair if he caught even the smallest hint of teasing. It didn’t matter if Fugaku couldn’t hold his own against Ryuichi because Hikomaru thought the world of his older brother anyway.

The last time Mikoto saw Hikomaru he’d been barely a teenager. Inheriting his father’s charm, and flirtatious nature, the Uchiha clan used to make jokes where the clan head couldn’t hear. They said if Ryuichi didn’t look so much like his father they’d question whether Torabana’s sons were actually her husband’s children. The boy left Konoha with little fuss or notice. The shinobi life held little interest to him, and as his father’s favored, he was allowed to return to his mother. He told Fugaku he planned on studying overseas.

Itachi might not have known about him. When Torabana was still alive, Fugaku never brought up anything he thought would upset his mother. After she died, Fugaku simply never spoke of his own family. For the most part, they were all dead. The boys had Mikoto’s family. They had the Uchiha clan.

Hikomaru could be alive.

If he’s alive—could more Uchiha be? Who else could have been overlooked? Who could have been forgotten?

Mikoto wraps her arms around herself and whispers. “I didn’t know he was alive.”

She rubs at the scar on her chest and does her best to quash the burning quiver building in her cheeks.

Even if she wants to believe, it’s painful to want,

Yukari lays her head against Mikoto’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mikoto. I truly didn’t know. Go to bed. Thinking hard thoughts on with a tired mind does no one good.”

“Did you get that out of a proverb book?” She asks.

“No, but when I was a child people would always try to force wise words into my head. Some of them stuck, not all, but some.”

They giggle together, easing the tightness in Mikoto’s throat, and as their laughter settles, she bids Yukari goodnight. She checks on the children, drooling and sprawled out deep in their dreams, before crawling into her own bed.

Hikomaru’s name doesn’t stop ringing through her mind. When she closes her eyes, she sees Fugaku, so short back then with round squishy cheeks, trailed by his messy-haired cheerful little brother.

What does he look like now? Is he as tall as his brother’s became? Does he wear his hair long or keep it short?

Is he even still alive?

_Could he be…maybe…_

Mikoto turns over and tries to get comfortable in the too plush bed. She pulls the heavy quilt up to her chin, closes her eyes, and tries to force her mind to rest. The four-poster canopy is like an enclosure. The feather pillows feel like they’re suffocating her. Uchiha Hikomaru might be alive. Fugaku’s brother could be alive. Another Uchiha could be alive. They’d lost so many. So many others more. Raijin had been prison and Itachi found him still. She wants to hope, but must shove it aside. If anything, she’s grown apt at focusing on what it necessary and not getting lost in her head.

The children deserve a little peace, just for a little while.

* * *

They stay with Kagawa Yukari until days are weeks, and weeks are months.

They have never stayed anywhere so long. Always on the move, staying is strange, but Yukari welcomes them with open arms. Mikoto can’t bring it in her to refute her hospitality. Not when the residual thinness of poverty and lack fades from Juugo, Karin, and Suigetsu’s growing bodies. All the children gain a fullness to their face they’d missed in their youth. They sleep in warm beds. They don’t worry for food. Mikoto wakes in the middle of night and runs perimeter checks around the estate, but the children sleep peacefully.

Sasuke tells her he’s too old for a teddy bear and Mikoto nods with a smile even as it breaks her heart. He’s growing up. If they were still in the village, he probably would’ve been a genin by now. Missions would’ve come first, and he would’ve run off with his sensei and his team leaving his mother behind.

The children must be reminded again and again not to bother the staff of the Kagawa estate too much. They aren’t used to children running underfoot. Mikoto apologizes to Yukari for any inconvenience, but she’s always brushed off with an easy smile. Yukari loves having the sounds of children running about. Their energy and cheer warm her heart. She says she’s content in her life, but she never had any children with her late husband. Mikoto doesn’t say it but that probably spared her from Itachi’s notice.

* * *

Suigetsu bounces with a Faberge egg in his hands. “Hey, Juugo, you’re taller what’s that painting say?”

Juugo fidgets and shrugs. “There’s a lot of long words and I can’t read that well.”

“What do you mean?” Suigetsu’s mouth twists into a cruel grin. “What are you a baby who can’t read? How’d you survive so long not knowing how to read?”

Karin smacks his head. He nearly drops the egg as he fumbles but manages to keep it in hand and holds it close to his chest. Karin huffs. “Don’t be mean, asshole. You could barely read, and Miss Mikoto is still teaching you to read better.”

“Shut up, stupid hag!”

“That is enough. Please refrain from touching anything breakable of Lady Kagawa’s that you _know_ you are not allowed to touch.” Yukari’s butler, Mr. Takemori, gingerly eases the Faberge egg out of Suigetsu’s grasp. “The painting plaque reads, ‘The Tale of the Courtesan of Kanagawa’ and I encourage you once again _not to touch_.”

Suigetsu blows a raspberry with his tongue. “We got it, Mister, no worries. Hey, hey, I got a question for ya!”

Mr. Takemori’s face doesn’t show any impatience, but his chest heaves as if he’s holding back a sigh. He asks. “How might I assist you, Mr. Suigetsu?”

“Is there a library in this joint? Karin might not be that smart, but I’m like super smart and strong, so I’m gonna help teach Juugo here how to read.”

Juugo tries to interject soft objections but can’t get a word in when Karin starts kicking Suigetsu’s legs for calling her stupid. Mr. Takemori lifts the two children apart with the same caution one uses when approaching feral dogs. “There is a library at the end of the hall in the west wing. It is open to you, but I advise you to keep to the books within your natural reach. Lady Kagawa does have some children’s books in her collection, but please do not touch the books on the higher shelves. Some of the books are very old and very expensive.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Suigetsu assures him. “We know how to behave. You worry too much.” 

Mr. Takemori doesn’t reply. He bows politely and walks away from him. If his pace is quicker than usual, the children don’t notice. Karin and Suigetsu sprint to the west wing dragging Juugo behind them cackling the whole way.

The library has a vast collection of books. Shelves upon shelves line the walls. Suigetsu immediately runs for the wooden ladder used to reach the higher shelves, while Karin peruses the colorful children self for something fun to read. Juugo takes a seat in the armchair in front of the fireplace and rests his chin on his knees. He’s thankful for their concern but knows Suigetsu might get them all into trouble again.

“There’s no comics here!” Suigetsu declares. “This is boring!”

Karin replies. “Cause you’re in the history section! Get down or I’m gonna tell Miss. Mikoto.”

“Snitch!” Suigetsu slides the ladder back and forth across the floor, the wheels squeaking as he goes, with a kick on the bookcases to propel him. “Hey, do you think if we bugged the cook guy enough, he’d give us some sweets. I liked those macaroon things. Oh, I want that bread with the chocolate inside too! Now, I’m hungry. What do you guys think?”

“Didn’t Miss. Mikoto say we shouldn’t eat any sweets right now? You’ll spoil your appetite for supper.” Juugo takes the book Karin hands him and scooches over so she can sit down next to him. “You should really sit down, you’re gonna get hurt.”

“You’re such a goody two shoes! I’m gonna be the best swordsman ever and collect all seven blades of Kiri. I’m not scared of nothing.” Suigetsu kicks harder off the bookshelf as the ladder carries him along with a _whoosh_. “The Lady is teaching Sasuke some Uchiha clan stuff, and she said we gotta entertain ourselves for a bit. I’m certainly entertained.” He whoops and cackles as the ladder slides faster and faster across the floor. Juugo figures Suigetsu will stop once he gets bored and smiles at the cute chicken on the cover of his book. He can’t wait to read it. Suigetsu is an unstoppable force until Karin snatches the book and throws it as hard as she can in his direction. It doesn’t hit Suigetsu, but it catches on the ladder’s wheel.

Mr. Takemori stands with his hand ready to open the doors to the library. He tried to continue his duties, but he couldn’t stop imaging ancient manuscripts destroyed. The thought of juice spilled on pages, rips and tears in the paper, and carefully stitched covers ripped off by prepubescent hands. When a large crash, an angry shriek, and a cheerful “I’m okay!” echo through the door he considers turning around and pretending he hasn’t heard anything. Resting his head on the wood, he knows he can’t. That is not the proper thing to do. Opening the door, he takes a deep breathe and claps for attention.

“Children! What did I _say_ about touching?”

* * *

The fire had long since burnt out.

Mikoto gathers up the ashes and mixes them with ink, swirling the grey and charcoal flakes into the deep black in a small porcelain bowel. She takes her calligraphy brush and etches seals and symbols onto her son’s skin. He sits seiza with his back properly straight and doesn’t move the slightest as she paints. It’s been a long time, but the familiar motions come back to her as she works. None of them had done it since the Kyuubi attack, but they all had learned and watched the markings as children. She thought Fugaku was better at it, but Mikoto’s hand was steady and sure.

“Listen well, Sasuke. You must not forget what I am to tell you. It is up to us to remember this now. The sharingan eyes may hold the memory of what we see, but what you hear it your responsibly alone.”

“Yes, Mother.” He nods solemnly.

She tilts up his chin towards the afternoon sun high in the skin. Sasuke closes his eyes and lets the rays warm his face.

“Listen well, my only son. Your ancestors are watching. They are the light that shines and warms this world, even now as they are cast into the dark where even we cannot see. They are the fire and hearth of home.” Mikoto runs her brush along his spine. The lines form a dragon and phoenix mid flight in dance upon his bare back. “We have always payed homage to the dragons from which we came. They gave us our eyes. We remember the phoenix that sired our hearts. Whisper the names of the gods of old, and do not forget their power. Even if we have forgotten their names, do not forget there is power we cannot know. There is the sun, the sea, the moon that make this world. We dance for them all. The fire follows our feet and the music within.”

Sasuke asks quietly, “what music, Mama?”

“The phoenix song. It is in our passionate love, our vengeful fury, our overwhelming sorrow.” She places a finishing brush stroke below his eyes. “Now answer me this, what does our clan symbol mean?”

“We fan the flames.”

Mikoto kisses his forehead, “Very good, my little dragon. Never forget that. Let no one ever dampen your fire.” She hands Sasuke a tessen. “Now, we dance.”

He is not the little boy she carried out of their bloodied home anymore. As much as she thinks of him as her baby, He’s older now. Sasuke had always been a good student, and he follows her movements with a sharp-eyed precision. He scowls like his father when Mikoto tells him to simply _feel_ the music, but his stance and footing is steady just like he was. There is grace in his slender limbs as his light and quick steps would make any Uchiha proud.

Sasuke is not afraid of fire. He does not fear being burned.

Even if the hope is only that, Mikoto can’t protect him from everything. She must let him know they might not be as alone as they thought.

“Sweetie, I want to tell you a bit about your uncle.”

Sasuke stills, and lets his fan fall to his side. He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. “Uncle Ryuichi? Auntie Yukari already told me a lot about him. He sounded weird.”

“No, your father’s younger brother, Uchiha Hikomaru.”

Understandably, he doesn’t believe it at first. He refuses to believe it. Mikoto almost regrets telling him. He argues they don’t have any proof. They can’t know for sure if Hikomaru is even alive. She agrees with him and pulls him into a hug.

“I have to know for sure. I need to know whether it’s true or not. We can’t know for certain without some measure of proof. If there’s a chance, I can’t just throw it away. There is only one place I can think of that will have the information I need. I’ve thought long and hard about this, Sweetie.” Mikoto hugs him tighter, rests her cheek on his hair, and whispers. “I have to go to Konoha.”


	18. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Konoha holds too many memories.

Konoha is the last place she should go.

It goes against everything Mikoto has taught her son.

It’s risky, frivolous, nearly stupid---but she must. She needs to go to Konoha, and she will go alone.

All four of the children protest vehemently, but none more fiercely than Sasuke. 

“Mama, you can’t! You said we need to be safe, and you said Konoha wasn’t home anymore. You can’t go!” He pleads, “if…If you have to go so bad just let me go with you. I can help!” He grips her sleeve with white knuckles as he hides his face against her shirt. “I’ve been training really hard, and I won’t slow you down, I promise!”

Mikoto gently pries open his hands. When he tries to fight her, she leans down, and holds Sasuke’s face between her hands. She rests her forehead against his. “I know what I said. I’ve told you time and time again that Leaf shinobi are one of our greatest dangers. I know I’ve said safety is the most important thing. Your safety is the most important thing to me, so all of you must stay here with Miss. Yukari. I must do this, but I need to know you children will be taken care of when I’m gone. You’ll be perfectly safe here.”

A few tears fall much to Sasuke’s chagrin, but Mikoto wipes them away with the pad of her thumb. Suigetsu and Karin grab onto her and bury their faces into her shoulders. Suigetsu whines, “I don’t wanna be safe! I wanna go with you.”

“I’ll come back; I promise.”

Juugo holds onto her sleeve, his hand visibly trembling, and says. “You don’t know that for sure.”

Mikoto doesn’t want to leave them. Staying would the sensible thing. It would be the responsible thing. Mikoto knows that. At the same time, she feels deep within her heart she’d never forgive herself if she doesn’t go. Hikomaru might still be alive, and that’s worth the risk. Her skill had seldom failed her before.

“Don’t let them catch you, okay?” Karin sniffles. “They’ll want an Uchiha lady bad if they know you’re alive, I know it!”

Sasuke whimpers. “_Mama…_”

Mikoto takes all four of the children into her arms. She tucks Sasuke’s head under her chin and hugs them tightly. “I’ll be swift and silent. Konoha’s shinobi won’t even know I’m there. You don’t need to worry about me. Be good and brave, and kind to one another. I’ll miss you every minute I’m away from you all.”

They all try to hide tears. They’re at that age where they like to pretend that they aren’t children anymore. They don’t cry anymore, not like babies, they say. Sasuke might not want his teddy bear anymore. Suigetsu might throw less tantrums when things didn’t go his way. They all try to act grown-up and strong, but now Mikoto sees their shaking shoulders and dripping noses. She holds them tighter and places a kiss on top of their heads.

“I’ll be back so soon it will seem as if no time has passed at all.”

Mikoto walks out of the Kagawa estate without looking back. If she glances behind her, she wouldn’t go. The children try not to cry openly, but only Yukari ushering them inside keeps them from running after her. Sasuke had been doted on when he was little. Every time he needed it, Mikoto would drop whatever she was doing to dry his tears. She wants to do that now. She wants to run back and scoop him up into her arms, but she can’t.

She has a mission.

Konoha is waiting.

* * *

It’s been years, but the towering red gates of Konoha still look the same. Not much has changed, but Mikoto can’t let any hints of nostalgia linger. The years of comradery with her fellow shinobi can’t mean anything anymore. The village of her childhood is gone—wiped away by the swing of her own son’s sword. Everything seems the same, and everything has changed. She can’t forget that. The Uchiha are gone, and yet it almost seems like they were never there. The world continued forward just like it always does, even as Mikoto’s world fell to pieces around her.

Enmei was only three with a cleft palate that emphasized his toddler-lisp. He carried a white blanket with him everywhere, holding it against his cheek.

He must’ve watched his father die, grabbed by his foot, as the poor man was split down the middle. Chimon probably tried desperately to reach his child even in his dying moments.

Mikoto knows she is standing near where Enmei’s head once laid, but there’s no sign that anything happened at all.

He would’ve been about eight now.

Chimon had been dating Tekka—No, his brother. He dated Tekka’s brother. For the life of her, Mikoto can’t recall his name. She tries to remember. She really _tries_. Part of her duty as the clan head’s spouse had been knowing everyone within the clan. Even if she didn’t know them personally, she needed to know their names. Her mother had her sit seiza and recite family tree after family tree of every family line within the clan. Marrying into what would be known as Madara’s line meant learning Fugaku’s family tree had been paramount. Their respective lines had been feuding, for a reason none could recall, so out of all the family trees she learned Fugaku’s been the one she looked at the least.

She can’t even remember where Chimon and his son fit. They might have been related to Uruchi, but she can’t say for sure.

There’s no one else to remember it. Sasuke wouldn’t. Fugaku hid some records of course. Tarabana’s paranoia installed a diligence within her son, but he hid them well. That still wouldn’t be enough. Maybe there’s more in the archives, but Mikoto can only hope. Any records, if not destroyed, had to have been collected. A shinobi village doesn’t let valuable information go to waste.

_Do any of them even remember_? Does Inoichi remember Okemia? Mikoto remembers her sister, just starting to show, rushing to her with her youngest sleeping peacefully in a sling. The gossip spread quickly from one mouth to another that Yamanaka Inoichi had been seen walking Uchiha Okemia to the compound entry. One person said he kissed her hand. Another said she flung her arms around him and kissed his cheek. On market day, Mikoto saw with her own eyes the two of them walking hand and hand.

Everyone complained the Uchiha kept to themselves. No one bothered to ask why they tried so hard to appear united. The Uchiha appeared arrogant in their seclusion even when it was pushed onto them. The rest of the village didn’t see the fear. They didn’t understand. Still, there were bonds built outside the clan. They were apart of Konoha.

_Why does it seem like they never were?_

The village couldn’t have forgotten so easily. All the Uchiha, so many lives, gone. They must have been missed, but the village moved on. Mikoto can’t bear the thought of forgetting. It hurts too much. Her stomach coils itself in knots, but like always she ignores it. She ignores the shake in her hands, and the tightness in her throat.

She’ll remember. She won’t forget. She’ll remember, for she must.

Sasuke won’t remember if she doesn’t.

Someone must remember.

Mikoto watches merchant carts amble down the well-trodden paths. Children run and play “shinobi” with plastic kunai throughout the streets. There are so many people with their clan symbols showing proudly. It’s cruel. They’re all content and thriving. It’s safe.

_It’s disgusting. _

There is no trace of the Uchiha clan. The clan that helped build the very village they all call home means nothing to them now.

There is peace.

It’s shows in the easy slump of the gate guards’ shoulders. No one watches shadows too closely. No one notices Mikoto sneaking about. A simple henge would’ve worked for all they notice. The wig and makeup almost seem like a waste. Konoha is said to be the strongest, the largest, the wealthiest of the hidden villages, and it makes them grow idle in peace. Lack of war makes them lax in their measures to protect the village. Any missing-nin could easily waltz through the gates unnoticed. 

There is peace.

Children play unsupervised without a care in the world. There aren’t any little ones out on the battlefield anymore. Mikoto heard no children can graduate early anymore. Genin walk dogs, paint fences, pick up trash. They do community service.

Little shinobi aren’t carried home by their father covered in the blood of the dead.

There is peace.

Shisui would’ve been a grown man now.

Even as he got older, Shisui let his father run a hand through his curls. He laid his head on Naozumi’s thigh like any little boy seeking comfort. Naozumi’s illnesses and the loss of his legs always made him seem small, but Shisui still treated him like the man he was before the war, the one who carried him on his shoulders with ease.

Harin would’ve been nearly a man.

Mimi would’ve been seven now.

The youngest was a baby boy, and shame fills her as Mikoto can’t recall the other’s names. There were five children: her precious nieces and nephews. Akimomo floundered on a name for the child still within her womb, and Masato teased her for it. He told her to stop having kids if she ran out of names, and Akimomo harassed him about marriage once again.

Akimomo would never give her baby a name.

Mikoto remembers the second oldest boy had a goofy grin. He ran about with dirt on his face and scrapes on his knees no matter how much his mother tried to keep him clean.

The youngest girl liked to pull Fugaku’s hair.

The youngest baby still crawled.

Mikoto closes her eyes and takes a deep slow breath. It helps with the burning in her chest, but only just.

It isn’t fair.

It never is.

Why do they all get peace? It’s all the Uchiha had wanted too.

A blur of orange and yellow sprints down the road interrupts Mikoto’s thoughts.

“I’m a better shinobi than all you, dummies! Just you wait! My training is awesome and I’m gonna make the old man see I’m much better for cool missions than dumb old chores!”

A girl groans. “Shut up, Naruto! You’re gonna get us into trouble!”

Kushina’s boy has grown so much. He’s short still, with his father’s hair and eyes, but he scrunches up his face in a pout the exact same way his mother used to. He scampers off with enough energy for ten children with a pink haired girl rushing after him.

He should be a genin. There’s no way the village wouldn’t make him a shinobi. The Jinchuuriki is a weapon first and foremost in the eyes of Konoha. Naruto had been spoon-fed stories about the adventures brave, noble, and strong shinobi even when there wasn’t anyone to make sure his landlord treated him right. What did it matter if he ate right? He just needed to live; to live and be loyal to Konoha.

Uchiha weren’t allowed to approach the Kyuubi jinchuuriki, not if they knew the truth, and Mikoto most of all. Fugaku tried, he really did. He pleaded with the Hokage to let the Uchiha take the boy in. Kushina would’ve wanted it. Minato wouldn’t have minded. The child couldn’t just be left alone.

They were denied.

Everytime, they were denied. Hiruzen told Fugaku there would be consequences should he not cease his pointless quest. Hiruzen didn’t take Naruto into his own home. No one else did. Many wouldn’t. Even the orphanage eventually grew tried of his presence. Mikoto saw how they looked at him. The little boy, only a little younger than her Sasuke, was left alone. People hated him, and he wasn’t even allowed to know why. Mikoto chewed on her anger. Every time she saw Uzumaki Naruto with his head ducked down as others looked on in misplaced hatred, it only made her anger stronger. Fugaku begged her to push it aside.

There wasn’t much they could do for the boy. There wasn’t much they could even do for themselves.

Fugaku blamed himself every time a new _inspection _of the compound was scheduled. He blamed himself for every misstep. He told her they had their own sons to think about. Mikoto watched Naruto from afar, noting his too thin wrists and frayed shorts, and prayed Kushina might understand. The day Sasuke stomped into the house grumbling about Uzumaki Naruto had been one of her favorite days. Mikoto didn’t even mind being called in for questioning. Sasuke, just a little boy, knew nothing of Naruto’s status. Naruto would never visit their home, they promised. Fugaku cried, and Mikoto pretended she didn’t. With their youngest son asleep and their eldest away on a mission, Fugaku cried and asked for her forgiveness. He knew how much it hurt her to say the Uchiha would never welcome Uzumaki Naruto into their home.

There were always consequences.

Mikoto often wonders if she should’ve taken him. He could’ve grown up with Sasuke. They might have been friends if given the chance. He might have been happy with them, but she couldn’t.

Naruto bears the village’s symbol proudly on his forehead.

If Konoha knew there was the slightest chance their jinchuuriki was alive, they would never let him slip through their fingers. Even if the child is ignored, the weapon couldn’t be left to rot. Jinchuuriki are loyal in Konoha. Missing-nin jinchuuriki happen in Kirigakure, but never Konoha.

They’d never let him go.

He looks well at least. The girl must be his teammate. Mikoto dampens her chakra as much as she can when she sees Hatake Kakashi walk out of a teashop with Maito Gai. Naruto barrels into him, laughing with glee, even as Kakashi lifts him away like a mangy puppy by the back of his shirt.

He’s not so alone anymore.

Mikoto wavers, just like she always does. Part of her wants to reach out to him, wants to hold him and tell him about his parents. He deserves to know their names, their stories, he deserves more than he’s ever been given. Mikoto lets the dream linger before practicality sets in.

Back then, Konoha would’ve pillaged villages far and wide looking for their lost Jinchuuriki.

Now, the boy is older and loyal. He wants to be strong and protect the village just like all Konoha children are taught to want.

Mikoto can hope one day things will be different, but for now—she prays for Kushina’s forgiveness once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the next chapter will be longer there's more action going on next, and last chapter ended up longer than expected.


	19. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missions rarely go as planned.

Mikoto walks into the library and heads straight for the beauty and health section. She skims through a few books with feigned interest as she plots her next move. No one will question someone being in the library if they look like they belong. So long as it’s not one of the sections limited to shinobi, library patrons usually don’t earn much attention. A young woman reading make-up tips isn’t so suspicious to raise many alarms.

The archives are still underneath the library. They aren’t restricted per say, but they aren’t heavily trafficked. Most people don’t care about them. Any important files are usually encoded, destroyed, or kept within the Hokage’s files. Someone casually looking through the archives would still merit a few questions. Researchers looking into history would be a plausible story, but it would still mean an archivist looking over her shoulder. No self-respecting shinobi village just leaves a civilian to peruse their files.

The front desk is right in front of the door. Whoever’s working the desk could either not care, or not take notice of her should she sneak in. But it all depends on whether they’re a civilian or a shinobi. Knocking them out could go either way. A fight would mean bringing attention, and that’s the last thing she needs.

In and out with no one the wiser is the best course of action.

But the variables keep everything up in the air.

“Do I…Do I know you?”

_Shit. _

Mikoto turns to the young man at the end of the bookshelf. On the outside she smiles politely, with only a slight curiously showing in her eyes. On the inside, she’s raging. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep her mouth in check. The man fidgets under her attention but stands firmly waiting for her to speak.

Long chestnut brown hair tied in a braid, with eyes a milky lavender hue, Mikoto focuses on the light freckles dusting the man’s cheeks to keep from staring at his eyes.

A Hyuuga.

Of course, she would be seen by a _Hyuuga._

“Oh, hello!” She replies. “I don’t believe I know you, but people say I have one of those faces.” The man squints, like he’s trying to place her, tilting his head in contemplation.

Mikoto covers her mouth with a light giggle to hide her lip curling into a scowl.

The Hyuuga shakes his head. “No, it’s something. I don’t know. I just don’t know what it is.”

“You must think I’m pretty, huh?” Mikoto twirls a blonde curl and tries to look bashful. “That’s sweet of you, but you shouldn’t flirt with a married woman. My husband wouldn’t like that one bit.”

His cheeks tinge pink, but he persists. “No, I’m sorry. It’s not that. It’s just…something about your eyes is familiar.”

She knew she should’ve splurged on colored contacts. It’s too late now.

Quickly scanning for cameras, and other library patrons, Mikoto checks the area. No cameras, and few people are in the library anyway at this time of day. It’s as clear as it’s going to get.

No witnesses.

The Hyuuga man can’t be that old. More of a boy than a man, probably about the age her eldest son would be now. He seems like a good kid. It’s a shame, really. If only he hadn’t seen her, he might have grown into a good man.

“You’re sweet. Don’t worry yourself over it, darling. Come here!” Mikoto moves in to hug him, and he tenses. His face turns bright red as she presses against him, but when she pulls away, she makes her move. As soon as he catches sight of the kunai slipping out of her sleeve, the veins around his eyes bulge. Mikoto meets his eyes head on with her sharingan. He holds the knife away from his throat with a trembling hand. She tries pushing it forward, as both of their arms strain against the other’s.

“You’re a…you’re…”

Mikoto whispers, “Say the word, and I’ll make it hurt. Do not say my name.”

He gulps for air, his byakugan deactivating, after he furtively glances around the area. 

“I won’t say anything. I swear I can help you with whatever you’re doing, okay. Just…please—please don’t kill me. You have my word. I won’t say anything!”

“What good is your word, boy?”

“My name is Hyuuga Benjiro. I’m a genin, and I’m a member of the branch family.” He pleads. “Please, let me live.”

Mikoto’s glances at the wrappings around his forehead, but she brushes it off and scoffs.

“Begging won’t get you anywhere.”

Benjiro chuckles nervously. “I know, I know, okay just listen. I won’t say anything. I swear to you. Just let me explain.”

Mikoto puts her kunai away and steps aside. “Talk.”

“I won’t ask too much of you. I’m sure you have your secrets for a reason, and I promise I won’t share them with anyone. I didn’t even see you! I swear on my eyes and my blood I won’t tell anyone.”

“Not even your clan head?” She demands.

“No, goodness, no! Imagine it! My clan head can’t find out. You must have heard how he is.” Benjiro lowers his voice to a soft whisper when a little girl rushes down the next aisle to the children’s section. “Those of us who oppose him have it hard enough. I’m not going to rat out someone no matter what it is. Some people have had some doubts about well…” he gestures to her eyes rather than say the name as he babbles. “There’s just talk going around for now, but who knows when we’’ll be next and it’ll be the branch family that gets it. It’s not like the village cares about our freedom, and I’d be a real asshole if I turned you in. I don’t even care what you’re up to, but it doesn’t matter to be okay. Just please, don’t kill me.”

Mikoto sighs. “What are rambling about you?”

“Not here.” He looks around as if the ANBU are hiding within the bookstacks. “It’s too dangerous to talk here.”

He whispers coordinates and asks her to follow once he’s left. Leaving together might come off as suspect when they didn’t arrive together. Mikoto considers ignoring his request and simply going back to kill him later, until she notices the library badge pinned to his collar.

Maybe Hyuuga Benjiro still has some use after all.

Hidden in a thick patch of tree cover, a secluded house painted green and grey hides. Vines crawl up the sides and make the house fade into the scenery that much more. Large bushes cover any windows, and Mikoto notices the barest hint of a perimeter alert seal above the doorway. Benjiro doesn’t take offense when she refuses to go inside. Instead, he sits down in the shade of the house, and lets Mikoto survey the area before taking a cautious seat next to him.

“We use this place for meetings out from under the main branch’s eye. One can’t say anything suspicious within the compound, and outside means any shinobi could hear. Anyone could use the information to get in good with Lord Hiashi. I figured this would be a good place to speak.”

Benjiro undoes the bandages on his forehead and unveils the Hyuuga clan’s Juugutsu: the caged bird seal. Marked onto every member of the branch family, it binds them to the will of the main branch. To disobey, means pain and even death. They say it’s to protect the secrets of the Hyuuga’s eyes. When a branch member dies, their eyes are sealed.

The Uchiha have no such practice. They say can protect their eyes without it—or they used to say that anyway.

For all the Hyuuga’s sealing practice disgusts her, they’re still alive. For all their faults, they still have a home in Konoha. The Hyuuga divide their own clan, but they know where their eyes will end up. Mikoto’s stomach turns when she considers where her own clan members eyes might be.

It’s horrible to hope some of her clan managed to gorge out their own eyes before their deaths but hope she does.

“We want freedom at any and all costs. The main can’t control the branch forever, even if this seal is still branded onto us. We’ll find a way!” He rewraps his forehead and shoots her a broad toothy grin.

His starry-eyed enthusiasm is endearing for someone enslaved by his own kin.

It’s an honorable goal. The biggest rift between the Hyuuga and Uchiha centered on their views of the caged bird seal. The Hyuuga weren’t shy about making remarks that the Uchiha’s eyes could be taken easily. The Uchiha let their distaste for the sealing practice and subjugation of part of the clan be known. It didn’t matter if some said their eyes descended from a common ancestor. They both had their own tales of how their eyes came about.

The Hyuuga viewed their practice as a necessity.

The Uchiha viewed it as an abomination.

There were old stories that once long ago when returning home, weak and less in number, the clan was attacked by a group of slavers. Mikoto couldn’t remember how the story went, but she knew such stories never happened again once they settled back in their homeland.

No one would take their children, take their eyes. They became strong to protect it. They didn’t need to brand their own. Fugaku argued this to Hiashi until the day his twin died.

After Hizashi was given to Kumo, no one could say much of anything to Hiashi anymore.

For all the pessimism and doubt she has within her, Mikoto wishes Benjiro the best. She wishes the branch Hyuuga the best too, but there’s little she can do for them now.

All she can give is a warning.

“Know this, boy, and don’t forget. All is not well in Konoha. Defiance of any kind would be snuffed out quickly. Keep the branch close, especially those with such thoughts as you, but keep your head down still. I should know. I know it better than any. You do not see my people, anymore do you? Thoughts such as yours aren’t taken lightly in a shinobi village regardless of where.”

Benjiro shivers. Mikoto watches his hands shake before he tucks them securely onto his lap. He takes a deep breathe as he steadies himself and the fear eases out of his shoulders.

“Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Trust no council but your own.” She pats his pats reassuringly. “It might keep you alive.”

The Uchiha had thought they could trust their own above all else.

Itachi proved them all wrong.

There’s little time for sentimentality and dreams. Mikoto has a mission, and she must see it through.

She stands and dusts the grass off her pants. “I need into the archives. Can you help me?”

Benjiro nearly stumbles as he hurries to his feet. “Ms. Miwa only works the morning shift. I was going to go in early to do some of my own research, but I’m manning the front desk today.”

Perfect.

Sent off with a smile, Benjiro hurries off leaving Mikoto behind. As she waits, the silence of the forest sends a shiver down her spine. The towering Senju trees were once comforting. They had felt like a blanket as they spread wide into the sky, so high in certain parts the sun struggled to shine through the leaves.

Now, the trees feel like ominous watchers. They’re a silent cage. There’s no telling what hides in the brush.

Shimura Danzo is the biggest threat: hiding beneath the soil ready to strike at any moment. They’d all feared him. His distrust was always clear, and Hiruzen considered it, pondered it, no matter how hard they all tried to prove their loyalty. People who displeased Danzo went missing. Children no one looked too closely at went missing. He knew things he shouldn’t. Danzo always seemed to be watching.

Nothing scares Mikoto more than her Sasuke being caught in his web. Her own safety matters little in comparison. Danzo can take her eyes, just not her boy. She already lost one son to Danzo’s greedy never-ending reach.

She won’t lose Sasuke.

It might be a pipe dream, but hopefully the branch Hyuuga resistance manages, with their own all-seeing eyes, to sneak underneath his gaze.

Benjiro leads her into the archives with a coffee in one hand and the other moving about flippantly as he rambles about everything from the fruits in season to famous poets. His meaningless chatter goes in one ear and out the other, but Mikoto nods and looks interested as any polite woman would. It’s all a ruse anyway. No one takes a secret glance at them as they go down the stairs and into the rows upon rows of boxes and files. He asks her if she’d like help finding anything, and she nearly denies him until she remembers. He’s an archivist. I’d be easier with his help.

“You know what I’m looking for.” She raps the corner of her eye.

“If there is any it would be in the unfiled section. Most of the records in here are scattered. We’ve been working out a new filing system.”

Most of what they find is useless. She didn’t expect anything less, but it bores her still. How many HR meeting notes are truly needed anyway? They quickly read through piles upon piles of jargon, business letters, mission requests, newspapers with the smallest line about an Uchiha within. No stone can be left unturned, but opening a box and finding papers haphazardly shoved in only to find they’re about D rank mission administration start to tire her nerves.

“Hey, I found something!”

Mikoto closes the dusty box she was digging through and rushes to Benjiro’s side. A news article crumbled with fold creases sits under a yellowed envelope. Benjiro hands her the letter, written in a loopy scrawl, and points at the picture. “Do you know this man? I can’t read the language of the article, but I think I saw your family name. I saw this letter, and well I think you should have a look.”

The young man in the photo is a face she remembers. It’s Uchiha Hikomaru, young, straight backed, and proud, holding what appears to be an award of some kind.

The letter reads:

_Dear Fugaku, my only big brother, _

_How are you? Are your two sons well? The last picture you sent made them seem so old now! Your eldest boy will be sneaking off on dates before you even know it! At least the younger one’s still cute. _

_I know I haven’t seen you since I left, but I included an article for you. I’m close to finishing my schooling. I even won an award for my research. I won’t come home till it’s done, and I know you’re probably the only one who misses me. I am excited to see your boys though. You never stop going on about them._

_ I can’t wait to see how Merciless Mikoto is now too. Just don’t tell her I said that. You guys better be doing well. I like her as a sister-in-law. I also won’t marry so don’t say anything about it. Truly, I think you should be doing what I am. You always loved to study, but duty comes first. I guess it’s all apart of being clan head. Wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, but I know you’ll do great. It’ll make your mom curse your name from the grave at the very least. Things haven’t changed much for me over here, but I promise to write more often. I love hearing from you. _

_Best, your best brother, Hikomaru._

_PS. Pay my respects at the shine for Dad, would you?_

“How’d this get down here?” Mikoto doesn’t want to look away from the page. If it’s her imagination, she doesn’t want the words to disappear.

“Sometimes if something gets left in returned books and it looks like something the archives might keep it ends up down here. We end up with a lot of junk on occasion, but we’ve found some real treasures too.”

Mikoto nods and tucks the papers away. She doesn’t care to ask if she can keep it, but Benjiro doesn’t say even bother mentioning it. Instead, he just closes some of the file cabinets, and goes back to searching in other aisles.

The letter’s enough to know Hikomaru was alive for a time. He probably didn’t come back to Konoha if his studies weren’t finished. But there’s a chance he might have after, if Fugaku’s letters stopped without explanation he might have gone looking. Maybe Fugaku had time to warn Hikomaru about the dangerous atmosphere in Konoha, but maybe he thought to not trouble his little brother with it.

Mikoto bites edge of her nail, and wishes she thought to ask when she could.

One find doesn’t lead to a treasure trove. The rest of their skimming doesn’t go that well.

Stacks of budget files with endless adjustments lead to nothing but boredom. Mismatched papers from old newspaper articles, with ads for stores that no longer exist, are most of what they find. Mikoto ignores the aching in her knees from the hard tile and looks at every piece of paper. She winces when a very old piece of paper nearly falls apart in her hands, but Benjiro isn’t looking. He doesn’t need to know about it. She quietly slips it back into its proper folder, and pretends she didn’t even touch it.

They need to keep looking. For as long as it takes, for as long they can.

Benjiro stretches with a wide yawn. He checks the entrance as he returns the books he took out. Boxes go back to their shelves, and accordion folders are clipped shut. Nothing should be out of its usual place, even if no one remembers where it usually goes in the first place. The interns haven’t been looking at shelf numbers lately. They just toss files and folders in whatever section they _think _is relevant.

The clock over his desk ticks with each passing minute.

“Miss uh…Lady? Um, did you find anything of use? I don’t mean to rush you it’s just we’ve been here a while, and my shift isn’t that long. I have to be home for dinner.”

“No, it’s alright. We shouldn’t dawdle. I didn’t expect much anyway.”

They tidy up any reminder of their presence. Mikoto wipes away any stray handprints left behind in dust, and carefully closes the file cabinets to keep them from squeaking. She swears under her breath when papers fall into the gap between the file cabinets. She nearly throws them all back onto the cabinet, especially when a dead dust spider falls out onto her blouse, until the name Uchiha catches her eye.

Luck is on her side today.

It’s a letter of request for Uchiha Daido and Uchiha Vamakshi to leave the village. It’s addressed to the clan head and signed with Fugaku’s signature. The reasoning given states business opportunities.

_Business opportunities?_

Mikoto stares at the kanji and tries to remember.

Uchiha Daido and Uchiha Vamakshi—the names look familiar together. They must have been engaged, or they’re parents had plans for it. Mikoto thinks both would’ve been young, not much older than her eldest son, and yet they left the village together.

For what business, she doesn’t know, but it can’t hurt to investigate.

There’s only so much that can done. The village probably went through the Uchiha compound with a fine-tooth comb. Any suspicious or useful information would’ve been confiscated. Mikoto considers going to the compound only for a moment. It brings a sour taste to her mouth, and she shunts the thought aside.

The whole place was probably destroyed.

It would be a fool’s errand to search for proof of Konoha’s crimes.

_Not now, not yet. _

They exit the archives as easily as they went in. Mikoto follows an unassuming man out of the library, close enough one would think they’re traveling together. She doesn’t look back at Benjiro following behind, only catching his eye when he turns in the direction of the Hyuuga compound. He gives her the slightest of nods, and she hopes her judgement was correct.

It would be a shame to kill him.

Walking through the market, weaving through the crowd with an occasional jostle and polite apologies quickly falling off her lips, feels harder then ever. No one takes a secret glance. Back when the clan symbol was emblazed on her back, she was always aware of the second glances. Mikoto tried to hide Sasuke from the suspicious looks given specially to Uchiha. She pulled him close to her and held her head high and pretended they meant nothing to her.

Now, life goes on.

Konoha is allowed a peaceful life when they tore her own to shreds.

_It’s disgusting. _

“You’re being watched.”

Mikoto’s stomach drops.

The person, so close she can feel the heat of their breath against her ear, moves back and slowly slides their hand into the crook of her arm. They both keep walking, and Mikoto struggles to hold her polite smile as her blood runs cold.

“It could just be a regular ANBU patrol, but it’s better to be safe. Keep walking, and giggle at whatever I say. You seem angry even when you’re trying not to be. Bury it. Be a giggling young woman who’s charmed by a man’s flirtations.”

A rough beard scrapes her neck as a gentle kiss is placed on her neck. Mikoto tucks her chin to her chest and giggles the best she can even as rage boils in her stomach. She manages a glance at the man, doing her best to look doe eyed.

Nara Shikaku slips an arm around her waist. Casually resting his hand on her hip, he says. “You look good. Did you do something with your hair?”

Better him than anyone else. He at least always has some sort of plan.

“Yes, I thought a change might be nice.” She adds hop to her step to make the curls bounce. “Do you like it?”

He raises a brow, “bit bold don’t you think?”

_Underneath the underneath. Shinobi look underneath the underneath. _

“I just had to do it!”

Shikaku sighs. “Troublesome woman.” He leans in close to her hair and whispers. “The Inuzuka compound is closest. We’ll hide you there until I’m sure it’s safe. Something rotten is going on, but I can’t say I’ve figured it all out yet. I don’t know what you’re up to, but I won’t interfere. Be careful, will you?”

The Inuzuka wave at Shikaku as he passes, and he gives a lazy salute back. Clan members and their dog companions wrinkle their noses at Mikoto’s heavy perfume (she put it on for a reason) but Shikaku doesn’t pay it any mind. Anyone looking at him would see a man with his head in the clouds, but Mikoto sees the way his pupils continuously dart in every direction under his hooded eyes as he studies their surroundings. She doesn’t want to go to the clan head’s house. It’s one of the last places she wants to be, but Shikaku doesn’t care. He eases her up the stairs with the grip on her waist like an iron chain.

He yells from the engawa. “Tsume, you in?”

Inuzuka Tsume shouts back, “What’s this I hear about you havin’ a girlfriend? I thought you liked cock. Whatcha doin’ with a little girlfriend when you got a perfectly fine wife at home, huh? Explain that to me ya—" Her words fail her when she stomps into the entrance hall.

She’d been trying to place the scent with Shikaku but couldn’t put her finger on it. The dosing of a flowery perfume makes her nose itch. A wig and makeup can do a bit, but Tsume knows that face well. She watched it grow from a girl to a woman. Her genin team had been all girls. Their sensei died first, then another one, and then another one, until it was only Tsume left…or so she thought.

“You…your…”

Shikaku raises his hands placatingly, “Look, I can explain some things to you, but I’m going to need you to be on the same page with me. I’m going to need you to be calm and reasonable.”

Tsume’s mouth curls into a snarl putting her sharp canines on full display. Her chest heaves with each harsh breath. “_You!_”

Mikoto lets her sharingan overtake her eyes. “Hello, Tsume.”

“_I’m gonna rip your fucking throat out_!”

Shikaku’s whining mumble of troublesome goes unheard even as he puts himself in between the two women.

“How? How is she…” Tsume growls as she harshly wipes away the dampness in her eyes. “I don’t give a sht. _Fuck you!_ I grieved for you! You can’t just show up and expect me to…to…I don’t know. Damn it! Fuck off! It’s bullshit!”

Coaxing both women to settle and sit down at the dining table takes more energy than he wants to expend. Kuromaru curls up next to Tsume’s chair, not once taking his remaining eye off Mikoto. Shikaku tries his best to explain, but there’s so much he doesn’t know himself and Mikoto is only willing to share so much.

Mikoto survived the massacre, as did her son Sasuke. She’s trying to protect him.

That’s really all he knows.

As much as Tsume demands and threatens for answers, Mikoto remains firm. She won’t tell the secrets of her survival. Even when Tsume wonders aloud why Konoha didn’t capture or kill Itachi; for all his strength, the village has plenty of their own skilled shinobi. Mikoto still holds her tongue. She won’t put them in danger should they know too much. Anything they’ll want to know they’ll have to find out on their own.

“You should know the massacre of my clan was not simply a whim. My eldest son did not act alone. Know you should be on your guard. I can’t tell you more. If anyone caught word you even had an inkling of the truth, you’d be at risk. Your families would be at risk. We’re shinobi. We’re built upon secrets.”

Crossing her arms, Tsume sinks into her chair with a huff. “It’s fucking bullshit.”

Mikoto stands, and steps around Kuromaru to gingerly pull Tsume into a hug. “Yeah, it’s bullshit.”  
Tsume doesn’t even try to hide her tears anymore.

Uchiha Mikoto, Inuzuka Tsume, and Uzumaki Kushina were a genin team. Most Inuzuka specialized in tracking, and while Tsume’s tracking wasn’t anything to scoff at her, her skills lied most in heavy frontline fighting. Their team was made up of heavy hitters, even when the jinchuriki was only allowed to the battlefield during the direst of circumstances. They grew up together, watched as they all married, and had children. Kushina died and her son was all alone. No one could take him. Mikoto tried to keep in touch with Tsume, but she didn’t know who to trust. Loyalty to Konoha came first for most. She had to think of her clan. She could only trust her clan. When Mikoto ‘died’ Tsume was the only one left of their old team.

That’s usually how it goes.

Genin teams don’t usually make it to adulthood intact.

Shikaku excuses himself to check the perimeter as they talk. He promises to make sure the coast is clear before returning, and Mikoto thanks him for all his help. She teases him about his forward methods of diversion, delighting in Tsume’s cackle and Shikaku’s red face when the neck kiss comes into the story, but she makes sure he knows her thanks are sincere.

They might not have been friends, but they have a commonality between them.

Fugaku’s gone, but they can both still remember him.

Her secret survival binds them now.

“What happened, Miko?” Tsume sniffles and wipes the top of her lip, smudging her lipstick. “I just don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.”

Goodbye comes too early, and even if Tsume doesn’t know why the village is a threat she sees the fear hiding behind Mikoto’s eyes.

“Don’t come back—for your boy’s sake.”


End file.
